


Good Company

by amclove



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alabama, Christmas, College AU, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Mobile - Freeform, Multi-chap, Queen - Freeform, homophobia tw, updating wednesdays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-11-13 05:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18025274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amclove/pseuds/amclove
Summary: Eugene needs a boyfriend to get his mother off his back. The last person he expected to help him out ends up being his best option, and maybe, just maybe, with Snafu at his side... this Christmas won't suck as bad as the ones that came before.





	1. Find Me Somebody to Love

    If you have a mother, or any considerably overbearing parental figure, you may know that they tend to be exactly that: overbearing, a word which here can be defined simply as a woman with a penchant for meddlesome acts.

    For as long as Eugene could remember, Mary Frank Sledge had been interfering in his affairs. When he was a boy well into junior high, she insisted that they go back-to-school clothes shopping together in order that she herself could dictate which items her son would be purchasing for the new year. She accompanied teenage Eugene to the barbershop so that she could be sure his hair was being done properly—i.e., in the way she had done it with her own scissors since he was young and sat before the mirror in their family lavatory.

    She had always, always been extremely overprotective of her younger son. He was her baby, and while Edward Jr. was basically allowed to come and go at will, Eugene’s flight from the nest had been more of a struggle in that he was sure Mary would have clipped his wings given a second’s chance. Eugene worked part-time every other day after school as soon as he could find employment and saved his money just in case he one day had to make a break for it, but time for university admissions arrived and, incredibly, Mary was cooler than he—or anyone, really—had ever seen her.

    He was accepted into the school he most wished to attend and with his savings and aid from both the school and his family, Eugene packed his bags for Columbia University. Getting out of Alabama had always seemed to him a longshot, and it wasn’t until he unloaded his belongings and knick-knacks into his dorm-room that Eugene truly realised he was in the Big Apple, New York fucking City, and that he had the entire world at his feet.

    After a semester of being away from his mother, he even began to sort of miss her constant badgering and fussing, so Christmas came as a welcome holiday to the boy. What he hadn’t counted on was Mary’s intent wondering into Eugene’s life, specifically its romantic side—or unsurprising lack thereof. It became clear that she’d been alright with his going to New York only because, now, her nosiness could be seemingly justified. Eugene clenched his fists and knew he would have to grin and bear it, as he always had.

    “Still a fuckin’ virgin,” Edward Jr. teased his baby brother. Eugene just rolled his eyes. One of Eddie’s main pastimes was going after Eugene for just about anything, and a holiday with the family was absolutely no exception. If anything, it was the reason and the only one Eddie needed to push Eugene’s buttons. It was at moments like these that Eugene considered other sibling hierarchies—Weren’t younger siblings meant to annoy those older? Steal their clothes and demand rides around town?

    So why was it then that Eugene had to endure torment and not Edward? Edward, with his sandy blond hair and blue eyes? It was just Eugene’s luck that he’d been saddled with brown eyes and auburn hair that bordered on plain ginger.

    “Still a fuckin’ virgin after a whole semester in New York?” Eddie whistles low and sips his beer. “I feel for you, pal.”

    “You’re an asshole,” Eugene says with a sweet smile.

    “An honest one. For real, ’Gene, ain’t met anyone yet?”

    “I got more important things to focus on,” Eugene says, “you know, like not flunkin’ out and havin’ to come back to Mobile?”

    Edward grins around the opening of his bottle. “Frisky, are we? Alright, I’ll give it a rest, but only cuz Mama got you at dinner. That was a rough ride.”

    “Tell me about it,” Eugene mutters, for once in agreement with his brother. Mary’s unwanted attentions served only as a reminder of why Eugene had been so anxious to leave, not to mention that he was chronically, painfully, nail-bitingly by his lonesome.

    It wasn’t that he didn’t go out, he definitely put an effort in, and it wasn’t all too difficult to do when his buddies were consistently pressing that he join them for pre-games and nights on the town. Not to mention that it was New York, the greatest city in the world if not the most open city in the world, a place where Eugene didn’t have to be so closed-off as he tended to be in incestuous Mobile, Alabama.

    And there had been nights where he’d caught someone’s eye, or vice versa, but it never amounted to anything. He just didn’t care enough to pursue it, and/or always found some excuse telling him to steer clear. Besides which, he had two perfectly well-working hands of his own; it wasn’t like he was dying for contact. Did a pesky voice in his mind like to remind him another human’s touch is vastly different from his own in a dinky Columbia cot at three in the morning? Sure. Did he listen? Only sometimes, but occasional lays weren’t the same as actual involved, stable relationships.

    He returned to school for the new semester and tried to push his mother and Edward’s nagging from his thoughts. He had far more important things to worry about, as he’d told Eddie, especially when two of his closest friends at C.U. lived off-campus with a real kitchen and television.

    “If I was her, I’d get over it,” Leyden says with a scoff.

    “Get off it, Leyden,” his room-mate Romus Burgin rejoins. “What’s it you got against Pam and Mark?”

    “Uh, try that he’s dead?” Leyden says, like it’s obvious.

    “She loves him,” Shelton says, his tone mocking over their incessant bickering. “Pam’s not so quick to throw that away. But glad to see how easy you’d get over a lost love, Leyden, real glad. Ain’t gotta bake you a casserole.”

    Eugene glances over to the couch from where he’s jotting into his notebook. “So you like this show now, Snaf’?”

    Snafu’s head lolls over so that his big blue eyes find Eugene’s. “ _Dallas_? I dunno. It could be worse. Could be _Knight Rider_.”

    “You take that back, you son of a bitch,” Leyden demands.

    “Don’t think I will,” Snafu says, shrugging his lean shoulders beneath his hoodie. “Anyway, it’s all fake as hell. Come on, Burgie, you tell us, bein’ from Texas an’ all that—any a’ this real?”

    “It’s s’pposed ta’ be dramatized,” Burgie says. “How the hell’m I meant to know what’s true and what’s not? And I’m from Jewett, Snafu, not Dallas.”

    “Tomato, to-mah-to…”

    “Asshole, buffoon…”

    Eugene can’t help his grin at their antics. All the guys ever did when they hung out was argue pointlessly, and it never led anywhere substantial.  Burgie, ever a peacemaker, wouldn’t be caught dead in a fight but Leyden? He couldn’t wait for the day when Bill finally just swung at Snafu and really started something to give Eugene a laugh.

    “You know,” Leyden speaks up, “ol’ Genie’s sittin’ real pretty over there, outta sight; outta mind. Why don’t you tell us how Christmas with the Sledge clan went down?”

    “You can’t actually give a shit,” Eugene rejoins.

    Leyden puts a hand to his chest. “You wound me like a bullet, sir. A bullet.”

    “You’ll heal, I’m sure.” Eugene pushes the front legs of his chair off the floor and leans back so that he can rest his head against his arms. “It went as you’d expect.”

    “So, your Ma badgered you to Hell?” Snafu predicts.

    “You bet,” Eugene confirms shortly, words accompanied by a sharp tap of his pencil’s end like a punctuation onto the tabletop.

    “Hey, you know, ’least you got a Mama to worry over you. Mine’d just as soon hit me o’er the head with a fuckin’ wood spoon.”

    “Damn lucky she still paid for your education at this fine institution, huh?” Burgie says, grinning.

    “Just ta’ get me outta her shit into yours, you cock,” Snafu replies, and he shoves at Burgie’s chest while he laughs.

    “Ask any more about your lack of an S.O.?” Leyden asks as he stands to make for the kitchen. “A job here in the city?”

    “What else?”

    “What’d you tell her?”

    “Same as always. No job, no plans, nobody.” Eugene shrugs. “Don’t know what the hell she ’spects outta me.”

    “I’d say two point five gran’babies and a white picket fence would do her fine,” Snafu suggests, smirking. Sledge flips him off, which of course succeeds in widening Snafu’s shit-eating grin.

    Eugene can honestly understand his parents’—mostly mother’s—obsession with his being tied down. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t be single, but that being in a committed, exclusive relationship meant less of a chance that her son could contract the AIDs virus. He understood, he genuinely did, but it’s still stressful as all hell to have that weight on his shoulders on top of the rest.

    Leyden, having popped a beer and offered some to the others, takes a sip of his and says, “You know, Sledge, if she’s really on your back with that shit why don’t you just, like, make someone up? Say you’ve been with ’em a while and waiting for the ‘right moment’ to tell her.”

    “I can’t lie,” Sledge refuses.

    “Why the hell not?” Burgie asks, eyebrows raised.

    “Because, I…” Eugene thinks for a second. Why can’t he lie, really? He lives in New York City now more than Mobile, and unless his mother drops in unexpectedly, how would she or the rest of his nosy family be the wiser to his love-life? “Huh.”

    “There’s the brain at work, boys,” Snafu announces. “Look at ’im go. Take notes.”

    “Can it, Snaf’.” Eugene looks between his friends, who all wait expectantly. “Alright, let’s say I do this, then. First and foremost, Mary Frank Sledge ’ould never believe it. She has a nose for bullshit and a greater sense for mine. No way, no how will she actually believe I’ve been hidin’ some secret boyfriend all this time.”

    Burgie’s mouth tugs into a tentative smile, and Eugene eyes him suspiciously. “What’re you grinnin’ at, all devil-like?” Snafu voices.

    “She won’t believe it’s some random person. So it has to be someone you know.”

    “I’m sorry, what?”

    “No, I get it,” Leyden says, and he’s practically jumping with excitement now. Eugene idly thinks that if Bill’s not careful, that beer is going to slosh right from the bottle onto the already-stained carpet. “If it’s someone your mom already knows about, she’ll more likely believe it hasn’t been long-term at all, but recent, like you want. A friends-to-lovers type deal.”

    “Are you off your rocker?” Eugene deadpans.

    “Think about it, Eugene, come on,” Burgie implores. “You’re friends for a while, when all a’ sudden you realise it’s more than a friendship. You called her as soon as y’all got into it to tell her the big news, because you knew how happy she’d be that you found someone, and that’s all there is to it. Simple!”

    “Oh, yeah, except for the part where I’m making an entire fake-life for myself just to please my overbearing mother!” Eugene shakes his head. “Jesus, Burgie, you’re crazier than a road lizard.”

    “He ain’t,” Snafu suddenly speaks up, and all eyes fall on his tanned face. “It isn’t half bad.”

    “Snaf’, I ain’t got a soul to match myself with,” Eugene says. “Who’d my mother believe I’m datin’? Fuckin’ Bill Leyden?”

    “Dick.”

    “Better yet,” Eugene continues in ignorance of Leyden’s remark, “I bet Professor Haney wouldn’t mind—”

    “What’s a’matter with me?” Snafu interjects, but there’s no offense to his voice, only amusement.

    “Pardon?”

    “It’s unbelievable enough that she’d believe it,” Burgie admits.

    “Or so unbelievable that she’d hit _me_ upside the head with a wooden spoon!” Eugene sputters. “Me and Shelton? In a relationship? She’d never…” Eugene has to pause again. He recalls past conversations, both at home and over the phone in New York, where he would talk about his friends from Columbia. Leyden, an aspiring accountant whose best and most surprising feature is his ridiculous capacity to learn obscure equations. They’d never clicked in the way Mary would be led to think, and it wouldn’t seem realistic in the least.

    Then there was Burgie, a fellow student of the university’s writing major alongside Eugene and always so respectful, much like Eugene in that way as well. They were _too_ alike, country boys with shy smiles and so much time to spare as kids in vast lands that they picked up a pen and paper.

    And Merriell, nicknamed literally after the word to mean a chaotic, fucked-up mess. But how did he speak about Snafu, when he and Mary talked?

    He tries to pull bits of his memory forward so that he may remember what he’s said. Once, he referred to Snafu, the Biology major, as brilliantly intelligent. Snafu had received more than a couple scholarships to attend Columbia, much to the astonishment of the boys when they’d found that out, and planned to be a doctor of medicine in New Orleans in order that he may help families like his, who didn’t have much and needed a helping hand.

    Merriell Shelton was sarcastic, sometimes completely repugnant, and unapologetic, but the other side of all that was his unflinching good heart and ability to read Eugene like the back of his hand. He’s been an incredible friend and ally to Eugene throughout these past couple years, so why wouldn’t Mary believe the falsehood? Like any good lie, it held just enough truth to seem real.

    “You know what,” Eugene says after a moment of silence. “I think this might just work.”

    “I now pronounce you, Mister and Mister Sledge-Shelton,” Leyden all but shouts, then says, “Wait, no. Sledgeton? Sledgefu?”

    “I got one,” Snafu says with a mocking laugh: “‘Suck my dick, Leyden.’”

* * *

    Eugene phones his mother with the news that very night. He’s grateful for Burgie’s landline; without it, he’d have had to use the payphone at his dorm and that’s 25 cents he simply hasn’t got to spend.

    “Mama,” he says, as soon as Mary picks up.

    “Eugene,” she replies. He can hear the unsuspecting smile in her voice, and he almost doesn’t want to go through with this. He and the boys spent more time than was probably wise devising an entire backstory to his and Snafu’s affair, and he shouldn’t waste their efforts, but there was this itchy feeling in his throat that was preventing him from speaking now that the moment had arrived to spill the beans. “Eugene, darlin’?”

    “Yeah, hi, Mama. I, uh… I got some news.”

    “Oh, dear Lord. What’s happened? Are you in a jail? Was there an accident? Oh, my dear Lord; I knew better than to send you to New York, I _knew_ —”

    “Mama, no,” Eugene interrupts before she can get fully worked up. “I’m fine. Nothin’s wrong; I just wanted to tell you _good_ news, if you care to hear it.”

    He can practically see her body sagging with relief at his assurance. “Oh. My baby. Okay. Yes, of course, I’d love to hear your news. Not every day you call with any.”

    Eugene rolls his eyes slightly and tightens his grip on the phone. It’s clammy with perspiration and he squeezes his eyes shut. “So, know how you’ve been worried about me? Bein’ single an’ that?”

    “Eugene, don’t tell me you’ve found someone!”

    “Well, I have.”

    “Oh! That’s just—oh, that’s wonderful, baby, just wonderful for you.” Then, muffled, “EDWARD! EUGENE’S FOUND A BOY!” She puts the receiver back to her ear but Eugene can still hear his father’s replying call of, “Oh! Who is it?”

    “It’s Sna—Uh, it’s Merriell, Mama. You know, Shelton.”

    “Merriell Shelton? The boy from Long Island? Or is he the one from Louisiana?”

    “Leyden’s Long Island, remember?” Eugene says patiently. “Mer’s from New Orleans. I ain’t sure how much time I got here to talk but is there anythin’ you wanna know ’fore I go?”

    “Oh, yes, yes; isn’t every day you wanna indulge your mama like this, Eugene; I must say, it is a welcome surprise.” He really has no idea how she talks so fast. “Now, when’d this all start with Merriell?”

    “Well, we’ve been friends for about two years now…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "you're crazier than a road lizard" is a line from night at the museum, jed says it and it kills me every time


	2. Pressure Pushing Down On Me

    Eugene had met Leyden in a line to get tea at a coffee-shop near the university. It was week one of his freshman year and Eugene, having been forewarned by his mother of the abundance of dangers that NYC had to offer, had his hands stuffed firmly in his jacket lest a pickpocket swipe his wallet and keys from under his nose. He was a little on edge, admittedly, so when a customer bumped into Eugene, of course on accident, Eugene instinctively spun around on the defense and knocked right back into another patron. That patron happened to be Leyden, and Eugene had insisted on buying him another coffee, apologising profusely for the situation. Leyden—good-natured, laughing Leyden—had shrugged it off and, taking notice of the tiny Columbia pin tacked to Eugene’s breast pocket, inquired about it. That was that.

    He met Leyden’s soon-to-be roommate in an English course sophomore year, and being that they were so similar, the two boys immediately hit it off. Eugene introduced him to Leyden, and within the next year Burgie and Leyden were the best of friends living in an apartment off-campus and sharing rent. Eugene felt sort of like a platonic matchmaker with that one, he had to admit.

    Snafu had been a twist of fate, in a way. It was late on a Thursday, probably past midnight, when Eugene noticed his grumbling stomach: He hadn’t eaten in ten hours, having been so enrapt in his studies, and he knew he needed to grab a bite before switching off the desk-lamp for the night. He ducked down to the dining hall, which was mercifully open until one in the morning every weekday, and ordered waffles with strawberry topping just because he could. His eyes had wandered around the place in search of no one in particular, and since he didn’t see anyone that he knew Eugene’s plan was to return to his room with his breakfast-for-dinner and continue studying.

    As aforementioned, fate had other plans in store for him. It was as he was grabbing napkins that a young man settled at a table just a few feet away said, “Waffles at this hour?” except the accent made this sound, funnily, more like ‘ow-ah,’ “you must be either out of options, or a country boy.”

    “Alabama,” Eugene said, grinning just slightly.

    “Neighbors. Louisiana,” came the reply, and that was the story. Eugene to this day is amazed at Snafu’s lack of timidity; he’d never be able to speak to a stranger in a dining hall for no real reason, but there was Merriell, completely unembarrassed and all wide, pale eyes. He was a marvel, really, and a part of Eugene felt bad for using their very real friendship for the purpose of making Mrs. Sledge lay off his socials. But there wasn’t any harm in it, was there? Nothing was going to change in their everyday life save for a couple extra, white-lies on the phone to Mary from Eugene’s side. It was all kosher.

    And it really was, and it was for that reason that the ‘affair’ lasted well into the summer holiday. Mary wanted Snafu to stay for a couple weeks at the house, but Eugene didn’t tell Snafu of the invitation and made an excuse as to why his partner was unavailable… for the entire break. He felt bad, but not enough to subject Snafu to the torture of his family.

    Eugene managed to lie his way through November, but by Thanksgiving Mary wasn’t having it.

    “I just don’t see what the problem is,” she went on. “We’re all nice people over here, no qualms to be had with your relationship in the slightest. It isn’t right, Merriell’s being your first boyfriend and we haven’t met him even once.”

    “Mama, we’re both too busy for weekend visits, alright? And he’s got a family too, you know; I can’t just drag him to Alabama for a holiday cuz you want it.”

    Mary huffs and stabs into the turkey on her plate with her fork. Eugene sighs, shaking his head. He can sense her patience waning, and he isn’t sure how much longer he can hold out her meeting the infamous, and by all counts fabricated, boyfriend.

    It turned out that the specific amount of time for Mary’s patience was two weeks. Before Eugene could return home again for another Christmas, she informed him that he had better show up with Snafu or there would be hell to pay. It wasn’t said in so many words but Eugene, having been witness to that certain look many a time, knew what she meant all too well. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, the rock being not wanting Snafu to be stuck in Mobile with the Sledges, and the hard place being Mary Frank Sledge’s unsurprising refusal to take no for an answer.

    In the end, he simply decided to be honest with Snafu.

    “So now she’s insistin’that you come to Christmas in Mobile,” Eugene says. “I know it’s ridiculous, and you have much better things to do with your time, believe me, I—”

    “Don’t sound too bad,” Snafu says, taking a drag from his cigarette. They’re walking through the park. Eugene was hopeful that, if they were in public, Snafu would be less inclined to make a scene about this whole thing. But it seemed now that the preemptive strike had been for naught. “Christmas with yo’ folks.”

    “You serious?”

    “Why not?” Snafu asks. “What could be worse than havin’ to tend to my five brothers an’ sisters on top of Pops passed out cold before nine? Nah, Boo. This’ll be a cake-walk.”

    “If you say so,” Sledge agrees hesitantly. “We can leave in a couple days, but I really am warning you now, Snaf’, my mother isn’t gonna go easy on you. On either of us.”

    Snafu takes one last pull from his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and grinding it into the pavement. “Then we’d better know our shit,” he replies, signature smirk on his bow lips.

* * *

     For Mary’s sake, he and Snafu fell for each other in early December of last year, the newness being the reason why he was so closed-off at dinner regarding his current (at the time) relationship status. Now, because of that faux timeline, he and Sledge have been going steady for a year, which is no small thing for two men supposed to be in college and sowing their wild oats, or whatever it is Edward Jr. liked to say in regards to his lifelong parade of female company.

    Sledge and Snafu had to seem realistically head over boots for one another, and they were lucky to have Leyden and Burgie to quiz them on their ‘shared history,’ etc., to pull that off. Thankfully, they already knew quite a bit of the real stuff, so this wasn’t too difficult. If they’d had to learn a shit-ton of nuances in such a short amount of time, this entire project would’ve been ten times worse to undergo. They were questions pretty much ripped from _The Newlywed Game_ and featured Leyden doing an exaggerated impersonation of Bob Eubanks, a comb gripped instead of a microphone.

    “What would Snafu say is his biggest pet peeve?”

    “Prob’ly havin’ ta’ answer these questions.”

    “Cooorrect! Next question for Merriell: How many dates did the two of you go on before the first kiss?” (Here Burgie pretended to be an audience member and chirped a suggestive ‘Oooh.’ Snafu shot him a glare.)

    “A gentleman isn’t one to kiss an’ tell,” he says snidely.

    “Cooorrect! Alright, next one is for Eugene…”

    And this continued for… too long, in Eugene and Snafu’s opinion. Regardless, they did learn a couple new things about each other and what they already knew was solidified in their minds with the game. Eugene really was glad to have such supportive friends as Bill and Burgie, and one like Snafu who would go so out of his own way just to help Eugene like this. The sentiment pushed him to purchase a Christmas gift for Merriell that was a little more pricey than the past year’s, but he was certain that when the time came to give it to him, it would be more than worth it.

    At the airport, he and Snafu wish their friends a happy holiday and thank them for the company on the taxi-drive there. They share a look before approaching the desk for check-in. This was going to be a long flight, and an even longer holiday break.

* * *

    The taxi from the airport drops the boys right in front of the Sledges’ front door and speeds back down to the main road only after Eugene and Merriell insist that they can handle the luggage on their own. Trudging to the front door, Snafu asks Eugene, “How excited are you to be home?”

    “Not fuckin’ very,” Eugene admits. He had a habit of speaking his thoughts around Snafu in a way that he tried to steer clear of with most others. He reminds himself that, while here, he has to keep his mouth in check if he wants to avoid appalled looks from Mary and Edward. He looks sidelong at his friend with a little grin. “But you must be happier than a clam to be here ’stead a’ yours.”

    “Hard as it is for you to believe, Sledgehamma’, I gotta say I am.”

    Eugene’s smile widens at the use of his nickname. He’d earned it after a particularly rough night of studying with the group when he’d become so frustrated with Snafu’s ramblings that he’d simply shouted at him, out of the blue, to fuck off. There hadn’t been any hard feelings, just a silly name bestowed, and Snafu employed it during times that he was in a relatively good mood. This must be one of those times, Eugene thinks, and it makes him happier too.

    “It’ll be open,” he says on the porch, and sure enough, the door pushes right open under his hand. “Brace yourself.”

    “I been through worse,” answers Snafu.

    “Eugene?” a shrill voice shouts from around the corner. Within an instant, Mary Frank Sledge has appeared before them, her chocolate curls bouncing just above her shoulders to mimic her evident excitement. “My, my! Look at you!”

    “Mama, I saw you not two weeks back,” Eugene protests as his mother pinches his cheeks and kisses them. He’s turning red and it isn’t just from the squeezing. Snafu is grinning ear-to-ear at the sight of Mary’s smothering, but he hasn’t got time to say a word before she’s yanking Merriell into an unexpected embrace as well.

    “Aren’t you just the most handsome boy?” Mary demands, eyes scanning Snafu’s entire body. “My! Eugene, you picked well, if I do say so myself. What pretty eyes you have. And a strong jaw!” Eugene catches Snafu’s gaze and lifts his shoulders in apology; Snafu returns the gesture, unbothered. “Now your father’ll be home in about an hour; I’ve just been preparin’ supper for us all. Edward Jr. can’t make it tonight…” Thank God. “So he’s comin’ tomorrow.” Damn it.

    “Can’t wait,” Eugene lies, then grabs his bags back up off the tile. “You know, Mama, I should really get my and Sna—Merriell’s things upstairs. You do the bed in the guest-room?” Mary laughs openly and Eugene quirks an eyebrow. “Is... somethin’ funny?”

    “Honey, you boys’ll be sharin’ your room!” Mary explains, like it’s not the most outlandish idea in the history of the known world.

    Eugene can feel himself blanch. “I beg your pardon?”

    “’Gene, you’ve been together for over a year now at Columbia, friends longer than that; I trust you to sleep in the same bed, for Pete’s sake.”

    “We don’t even share a bed at school!” Eugene splutters.

    “All the more reason this holiday can be somethin’ special,” Mary says with a wink, and Eugene wants to drop dead right there. She gives one last lipsticked smooch to his cheek, as well as Snafu’s, and then whisks back off down the hall. “Get settled in, boys!” she calls over her shoulder. “I ’spect ta’ hear all ’bout New York!”

    Sledge doesn’t dare look at Snafu as he makes for the staircase. Once they’re on the second floor and safely behind Eugene’s closed bedroom door, he turns and says immediately, “Snafu, I’m so sorry.”

    “Whatchu apologisin’ for, Sledge?”

    “This whole thing. I can’t believe I thought this ’ould be easy with my mother at our throats for a month and a half.” He rubs his face and shakes his head to clear it a bit. “But it’s alright. They go to sleep early so soon as they’re down you can move on over to the guest-room. In the mornin’, you just gotta get back over here without bein’ seen and make like you’re leavin’ my room—”

    “As amazingly uncomplicated as that sounds,” Snafu drawls, “I don’t give half a damn about sharin’ with you, ’Gene.”

    Eugene blinks. “What?”

    “Does it matter? A bed’s a bed.”

    “I just thought you’d be more comfortable…”

    “Don’t matter to me,” Snafu says again, shrugging, and equally nonchalant, “So, what’s your ma fixin’ for dinner? I’m starved.”

* * *

    “Eugene, your father’s home,” Mary shouts up the stairs. “Supper’s up.”

    “You ready for the scrutiny of your first Sledge family dinner?” Eugene asks.

    “Sure. Least I ain’t gotta deal with your brother’s pickin’ too.”

    Eugene snorts and thanks the good Lord for small blessings. Edward is standing beside his wife at the bottom step, spectacles making him appear as rigid and wise as ever. To this day, Eugene can’t yet shake the feeling that he disappointed his father when he set forward to become a writer instead of a doctor, but Edward, always so collected, has never mentioned any such disappointment toward his son aloud. It makes Eugene tense, like he’s waiting for the moment where Edward will snap, even if it’ll be a long wait.

    “Merriell Shelton, suh’; it’s real good to meet you,” Snafu says as soon as they reach Eugene’s parents. Exuding ease, he accepts a firm handshake from Mr. Sledge.

    “You as well, son,” Edward replies, subtly impressed. “I hear you’re from the Crescent City?”

    “Born and bred,” Snafu confirms.

    “Alright, boys, why don’t we sit on down before the chatter begins?” Mary suggests, ushering the three toward the dining room. “Food’s all settled.”

    “Jambalaya?” Snafu raises his eyebrows at Mary, a smile twitching its way onto his lips. “You didn’t make that just for me, did you?”

    “I certainly did!” Mary says happily. “It’s just about the only thing I could think of to remind you of home, so I wanted to try my hand. You can be honest, if it’s not up to your standard.” Snafu chuckles and Eugene has to admit that he’s a tad taken aback. His mother hadn’t mentioned this to him at all.

    “It smells perfect to me, Missus Sledge.”

    “Oh, stop that; it’s Mary, honey.”

    “And Edward,” Mr. Sledge adds.

    “Can I call y’all by your Christian names too then?” Eugene asks, mostly joking.

    “Absolutely not,” his parents reprove in unison. He frowns and leans back in his seat and catches Snafu biting back a grin at Eugene’s expense.

    “Now, you must tell us more of how you boys made things official,” Mary says as she hands out bowled portions.

    “Mama, I told you…”

    “Yes, when—not _how_ ,” she tells Eugene. “And what little I do get from you’s like pullin’ teeth, Eugene. Merriell, indulge me, would you?”

    Snafu glances quickly at Eugene. “Well uh, you know we ’re friends for a good while, but took us even longer to sorta see what ’as right in front a’ our noses.”

    “Went to a coffee-shop, got to talkin’, and it came out that we wanted to try somethin’ more,” Eugene cuts in. “Nothin’ extravagant, Mama.”

    Mary tuts. “You know, me and your father met on the bus to school,” she says. “We were just little things then, didn’t realise we’d end up like we are.” Mary smiles at Edward, who squeezes her hand with a soft smile back at her. “That’s sort of like you boys, isn’t that right?” Eugene swallows against the sudden lump in his throat.

    “Sure is,” Snafu speaks for him. “Awful lucky.”

    “What about your home life, Merriell?” Edward asks.

    “Not much to tell,” Snafu says, focusing his attention on cutting a carrot in his bowl.

     _I told y’all he doesn’t much like talkin’ about his family_ , Eugene chastises his parents with his eyes. For once, Mary seems to get the hint, as does Edward. Snafu isn’t wont to letting much loose about the Shelton clan and, from what little he has, Eugene has gathered that they aren’t a warm and fuzzy bunch like the Sledges. The least he can do is avoid upsetting Snafu with thoughts of New Orleans when he’s agreed to do this favor for Eugene for basically nothing in return.

    The rest of the meal follows in light chit-chat and mostly fabricated stories about Eugene and Snafu’s incredible relationship. They try to keep conversation geared toward general topics to avoid lying any more than they must, but with Mary’s prying it’s awfully hard to do so.

    By the time vanilla ice cream and blueberries have been devoured, the boys are spent. Eugene’s bedroom door closes and it feels almost as if they’re taking off Halloween masks.

    “I dunno ’bout you, Boo, but I’m dead tired,” Snafu says, falling backward so that he lands snow-angel style on the mattress.

    “Same here,” Eugene says. He swipes across his eyes, head pounding. “God. This has to get easier, right? It can’t be that stressful every time?”

    “I sure as shit don’t know,” Snafu mutters, eyes closed.

    “Snaf’,” Eugene says, the amusement at his friend momentarily parting his exhaustion, “put some peejays on and brush your teeth ’fore driftin’.” He pulls at Snafu’s hands to lift him off the comforter. “Up an’ at ’em, you sack a’ shit.”

    “I do love you sweet-talkin’ me, cher,” Snafu grumbles, but he allows Sledge to yank him up and to his feet. “Lucky I brought jammies at all; usually, I sleep ass to the mattress.”

    “Gee, Mer’, your life is a constant battle.”

    “Yeah, eat dirt, Sledgehamma’.”

    Eugene shakes his head, grinning as he changes into his night-clothes. Maybe this month won’t be so bad with Snafu by to keep him from going insane. Of all the people to be in a fake relationship with, Snafu’s not the worst.

    Eugene yawns, a tired shiver passing over his body, and he grabs his toothbrush from his bag to hoof it to the bathroom. If he’s not quick, Snafu might just flood the place for a lark and wear his welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no patience so I updated a day early, I hope you guys don't mind lol


	3. In My Tangled State of Mind

    Following Mary’s Saturday morning tradition, Eugene is sure to wake around eight in order that he and Snafu are ready for breakfast at nine. Although Snafu was fairly used to earlier classes at Columbia, his annoyed frown made it clear that he hadn’t been expecting the same schedule on a holiday.

    “What the fuck, Sledge?” he asks, voice scratchy from sleep. “It’s the ass crack a’ dawn!”

    “It’s 8:02,” Eugene corrects, “and my mother goes to the Farmer’s Market on Saturdays at 10:30 sharp. Gotta rise and shine.”

    “ _You_ rise.  _You_ shine. I’ll stay in this warm, comfy bed.”

    Eugene tugs the blankets off of Snafu, ignoring his iron grip on the sheets, and says, “ _We’ll_  get downstairs and eat what I’m sure’ll be a delicious breakfast courtesy of Mary Frank Sledge.”

    Snafu huffs loudly, but allows the sheets to be taken from him. “Jaysus. Is this whole damn break gon’ be like this?”

    “Most likely. Hey, I told you this’d be a rough go.”

    “Yeah, cuz a’ yo’ ma’s badgerin’, not for lack a’ rest,” Snafu complains. Eugene snorts and tosses Snafu a pair of jeans from his suitcase.

    “My bed’s comfy, huh?” Eugene teases, and Snafu shoves his laughing chest.

    “Fuckin’ ass.”

* * *

     The appearance of banana-nut pancakes, hashed potatoes, and all-natural maple syrup work wonders on Snafu’s mood. He brightens almost immediately, blue eyes shining, and Eugene shakes his head at the sight. After years in this house, he’d sort of forgotten that not every child was treated to such luxuries as well-prepared homemade meals and good-morning kisses to one’s forehead. He took it for granted, and is suddenly glad that Mary at least for now has another boy who appreciates her efforts in the house to shower with love.

    “This is real nice, Missus—Mary,” Snafu says around a forkful of fluffy pancake. “Real nice.”

    “Why, thank you, Merriell!” Mary says with a pointed, appreciative glance toward her son. “Even nicer to have someone sayin’ so!”

    “You know, Mama, you really didn’t have ta’ do all this,” Eugene points out.

    Edward chuckles from behind his newspaper at the head of the table. “You’re well aware of your mother’s love for cooking, Eugene, and what’s more, she’s got a guest to feed. It’s her dream come true.”

    “This is supposed to be a holiday for everyone, not just me and Snaf’. Me and Merriell, I mean.”

    “What’s that?” Mary asks. “You’ve said that a couple times now, ‘Snaf.’”

    “Just a nickname, Mary,” Snafu says, trying not to laugh. “Nothin’ to worry over. Like how I call Eugene ‘Sledgehamma.’”

    “Why’s that?”

    “Mama, we really should be gettin’ a move on if we wanna make it to the Market,” Eugene says quickly, before Snafu can incriminate them further.

    “Oh, yes, of course you’re absolutely right!” Mary exclaims. “Boys, would you help me clear this table quick?”

    “Yes, ma’am,” Merriell and Eugene speak as one. They look at each other and smile just slightly—although Snafu’s is more of a smirk, as usual—but the exchange makes Mary and Edward smile too.

    “You two, I swear,” the former fusses, collecting dishes. “The cutest thing.”

    “Mama...”

    “Oh, I know, I won’t start. Let’s just clean up and get outside; the day is already lookin’ wonderful.”

* * *

     Mary and Edward leave the boys to their own devices at the Market. Eugene would normally tag along, but Mary only winks at her son before dragging her husband off toward whatever it is that caught her eye. Eugene sighs and is grateful that, at the least, she hadn’t chosen to stick by their sides like glue and ask relentless questions about their fictional life in the city.

    “So, you come here every week?” Snafu asks, looking around. The Market is bustling, which isn’t unusual for a Saturday morning, and s it always does the chatter and familiarity of the place makes Eugene feel at home.

    “Every week since forever,” he agrees. “Good prices, good quality. Can’t beat it.” He glances at Snafu to his left. “You got a market back in New Orleans?”

    “Yeah, not quite like this.” Snafu squints against the sunlight. “It’s nice, what you got here. With your parents, traditions and like. No wonder you’re the way you are.”

    Eugene raises his eyebrows. “How am I?”

    Snafu chuckles, low, and bumps Eugene’s arm with his. “You know. Polite, big smile, all considerate an’ shit.” At Eugene’s surprised look, Snafu adds, “It’s fuckin’ annoyin’, Sledgehamma’, I tell you.”

    Eugene laughs. “So what’d you have in mind to get?” he moves on. “They got everythin’ here, for real.”

    “I don’t need nothin’.”

    “There’s all kind of fruit, veg’—Hell, they even got tapestries and stuff like that if you want it.”

    “No.”

    “I mean it, Snaf’—”

    “And I said no, Eugene,” Snafu snaps, and Eugene pauses, taken aback. He wants to touch Snafu’s arm and stop him from walking away, but he refrains.

    “Did I say somethin’ wrong?” he asks carefully.

    “I just don’t need your family payin’ for my shit, Sledge. You know your Ma’d never let me pay my own and I ain’t lettin’ your folks cover me. Bad enough I’m in yo’ house and eatin’ yo’ food after they insisted on gettin’ our plane tickets.”

    Eugene blinks, unsure how to respond. He hasn’t a clue where this rant came from, and he isn’t sure how to reply. “Merriell, if I tell them not to pay for anythin’ of yours here, they won’t. You can get somethin’ if you want to.”

    “I don’t,” Snafu says again, but it’s less harsh than before. Eugene nods without a word, and they walk around the market for ten more minutes in the same silence. Eugene wants to speak, however he has no idea how to even begin a conversation with his friend right now. If his parents notice a tension, they don’t mention it, and within an hour they’ve returned to the house and are unpacking the groceries.

    “You know, Merriell,” Mary starts. She sounds as cheerful as ever, but Eugene can tell that she’s making an attempt to lighten whatever mood has fallen over the boys. “I would love some help makin’ dinner tonight. Eugene’s brother’ll be comin’ in and with another mouth to feed, a helping hand would be lovely.”

    “I can help you, Mary; be no trouble at all,” Snafu says, and when she smiles, he goes on, “I’m not too bad at it. Cookin’. Got five siblings in Louisiana and made supper a lot when I ’as there with ’em.” Eugene almost doesn’t want to breathe, astounded that Snafu is talking openly about his family like this, so casual. “This’ll be the same.”

    “Well, isn’t that nice,” Mary says, and she leans over to put a fond hand to his cheek. “Such a sweet boy. That’s settled then. Eugene? Would you like to help us?”

    Him, a chef? He could hardly put together a decent ham and cheese sandwich. “I…” He looks at Snafu, his attention fixed on his hands, and knows he has no choice. “I’d certainly be willin’ ta’ try.”

* * *

     For that night’s meal, Mary had chosen to put together breaded chicken cutlets, roasted asparagus, and a twice-baked potato casserole. It was a wildly simple course if just for Eugene’s inexperienced sake and because she didn’t want to really make a guest work too hard on holiday. Despite the simplicity, the kitchen was alight with laughter and the heat of steadfast appliances for the entire day as they cooked.

    “And dessert?” Mary enquires. “I thought I’d let you boys come up with an idea.”

    “We got peaches today,” Snafu says slowly, his mouth quirking.

    “Peach cobbler?” Eugene reads his mind with a grin, and Snafu’s own widens considerably.

    “Wonderful,” Mary says, clapping her hands twice. “Chop, chop, time is a’ the essence. We’ve got just about two hours before your brother rolls in here, Eugene, so get started on that cobbler. I’ve got a load of laundry…”

    “No problem, Mama,” Eugene assures her. “Go ahead, we can handle a cobbler.”

    Mary rolls her eyes, somehow in a graceful way—same as she did anything else, really—and flounces from the kitchen with a, “If I smell smoke, you’re in trouble!”

    Snafu laughs and says, “Got a cookbook, Sledgehamma’?”

    “Sure do.” Eugene retrieves the decades-old family recipes from the cabinet beside the refrigerator and scans the table of contents. “Here we go. So says here there’s a crust to make too. You wanna tackle the peaches or the crust?”

    “Peaches. I’ll let you handle the easy task, Sledge.”

    “Fuck off,” Eugene laughs. “Bowls’re over there. Can you read this, Mer’, or should I list off the ingredients for you?”

    “You’re playin’ with fire, boy,” Snafu warns, but he’s all bark. His eyes give the recipe a quick once-over and he nods to himself, like he’s just memorized the entire thing. “You know,” he says, already bustling, “this place is damn pleasant.”

    “What?”

    Snafu gestures to nothing in particular. “Yo’ house. Yo’ entire cookie-cutter life here. It’s like livin’ in a damn gingerbread town.”

    Eugene snorts. “Yeah, right. It’s real nice havin’ my mother to breathe down my neck every second, lovely as she is, or my dad wishin’ I was goin’ into medicine.” He shakes his head and dumps the butter into the bowl. “You shoulda’ seen him last night when you told ’em your major, Snaf’, the pride on his face. You ain’t even his son and he got like that.”

    “What, like he ain’t proud of you? Don’t be a moron.”

    “Come on, Snafu, I’m in Creative Writin’! That’s like—transportin’ shit in a truck compared to savin’ lives and makin’ a real difference.”

    “But you love to write,” Snafu says, like it’s easy. “That’s the same as savin’ lives to you, and writin’ does make a difference.”

    “Yeah, right,” Eugene says again.

    Snafu arranges the peach slices into a saucepan and puts it onto a burner like he’s cooked in this kitchen a thousand times before. “I can’t convince you of somethin’ you ain’t gonna believe either way,” he says, “but you got two options here: Stop being such a pussy and stop tryin’ to be your dad’s pet, or quit the writin’ track and join me in med’. Your call, Boo.”

    “I don’t wanna be a doctor,” Eugene mumbles, securing a towel over the top of the bowl.

    “Huh?”

    “I don’t wanna be a doctor,” he repeats, more forcefully. “I don’t like blood, I don’t like innards, I don’t like feet or backs or fuckin’ needles; I like to _write_ and... I won’t quit.” He huffs. “I hate when you make a point, Snafu, I really fuckin’ hate it.”

    “But what about your dad?” Snafu replies mockingly.

    “It can’t be my problem what he thinks,” Eugene says, quieter.

    Snafu nods slowly and focuses again on his portion of the recipe. “You know, you ’er wrong. About Edward. Should try takin’ a real look at ’im once in a while, might surprise you’self.”

    “What d’you mean?”

    Snafu looks at Eugene, eyebrows lifted. “Cher, he looks at you like you’re the world. His baby boy. I’d reckon there ain’t a thing you could do to make that change. Even bein’ a fuckin’ comic-strip doof wouldn’t do it.”

    Eugene bites back a smile and shoves the bowl into the fridge with the settling dough crust. “I wouldn’t wanna try anything to that extreme, but I’ll take your word for it. And hurry up with that mix, would you?”

    Snafu points a wooden spoon Eugene’s way like a weapon. “One more word outta you, Sledge, and it’ll be your head goin’ in that oven ’stead a’ the cobbler.”

    “I’m shakin’ in my slippers, Snaf’.”

    Snafu makes a face. “ I ain’t got time for you,” he casually rejoins, dropping assorted spices in with the fruit. “Some of us are actually tryin’ ta’ be helpful.”

    “Like you’re strugglin’. Lemme see.” Eugene walks toward his friend, who’s got a tablespoon of flour in his hand. “Looks pretty fucked to me. Maybe this is harder for you than I thought.”

    “You think so, Sledgehamma’?”

    Nose scrunched, Eugene pretends to eye the mixture. In all honesty, the peaches smell divine and he wouldn’t mind a spoonful just as they are, but he can’t let Snafu know that.

    “I know so—” he has time to fib, and then Merriell has slapped a fist of flour against his cheek. It wasn’t a hard hit, but the powder flies in the air and Eugene’s eyes are wide when they land on Snafu. “You di’n’t.”

    Snafu’s pale eyes regard him, completely nonchalant. “What if I did, Sledge? You know me, Mr. Situation Normal: All Fucked U—”

    Eugene grabs for the bag of flour at the same moment he holds firmly Snafu’s wriggling waist to keep him from escaping. He dumps a handful atop his dark head of hair and laughs maniacally at the mess he’s created there. “This is a good look for you, Merriell. I’m a fan.”

    “I swear to the unholy God, Eugene, I’m gonna cut your ass.” Snafu lunges for him but Eugene pins his arms to his sides.

    “Haven’t been liftin’ lately, have you?” he asks, laughing. “Can’t even fight me off to coat with flour, what a shame. Sorry, Snaf’, you lose—”

    Snafu mutters something like, “Sorry ’bout this, Sledge,” and knees Eugene where he knows it’ll hurt to get out of his grasp. Eugene gasps and keels over, the wave of pain passing over his body like an electric shock.

    “What in the world is goin’ on in here?” Mary demands, because of course she’s chosen this moment to appear in the doorway like the ghost of Eugene screwed. “What’s all the flour flyin’ about for? Eugene, why’re you bent like that?”

    Snafu’s tan face is pink but Eugene, noticeably paler, is redder than a ripe tomato. “Mama, I…” He pops his mouth as a fish would searching for air. “I…”

    “He stubbed his toe, Mary!” Snafu makes up. “Just rammed it right up against that cabinet, if you can believe it. He’s just as clumsy in the city, it’s a real hassle.”

    “Oh, dear, do you need ice?” Mary asks, moving forward, and Eugene yelps a negatory. “Alright, if… you’re sure.” She glances between them, both covered in flour, and tries to hide a smile. “My. You boys had better wash up before dinner. And clean up this mess, would you?”

    “Yes, ma’am,” Snafu answers diligently. “Will do.” She shakes her head at their shenanigans and disappears back from whence she came. Snafu’s gaze slides to his friend, fearing the worst, but when Eugene’s eyes find his, they both break into grins.

    “You’re a fuckin’ jackass, you know that?” Eugene says fondly.

    “Words of love, so soft and tenda’,” Snafu coos, and Eugene whacks his arm. They didn’t have to say in so many words that the spat at the Market was forgotten.

* * *

     By some stroke of insane luck, Edward Jr. behaves during supper. He talks about the happenings in Montgomery and the bank, all supremely fascinating conversation. Snafu and Sledge share more than a few glances that betray their shared boredom. They skate through without having to say too much but Eugene’s relief is short-lived because, after the peach cobbler has been eaten (which is absolutely delicious, everyone tells a grinning, for-once humble Merriell), Edward has thrown his arms over the shoulders of his brother and faux lover. And they’d been so close to making it to the staircase in their daring escape. Eugene should’ve known he wouldn’t be so lucky.

    “Not so fast, boys,” Eddie scolds. “I can see I missed a lot with you in the city, baby bro’. Care to share?”

    “Mama already told you…”

    “Maybe she did, but nothin’ interestin’,” Eddie interjects. “Come on, back porch’s all cosy to have a chat.” He slaps their backs and dismounts from their shoulders to saunter to the back of the house. Eugene and Merriell look at each other with raised brows, Eugene’s more sorry than anything else.

    “We’ll try to talk as little as possible,” he promises Snafu. “And then we can make ourselves scarce. How ’bout a movie?”

    “Stop babblin’, Sledge,” Snafu orders. “It’s just your brother; he can’t be all bad, right?”

    Oh, but when it comes to embarrassing the daylights out of his younger sibling, Edward could certainly be the very worst. And by the devilish glint to Eddie’s dark blue eyes, Eugene knew that he was in for a world of embarrassment tonight.

    “So, how long y’all been an item?” Eddie questions. “A year, that right?”

    “Just about,” Eugene agrees tightly.

    “You know, I don’t really see it,” Eddie says, tilting his head. He looks at Snafu. “You’re not too bad lookin’, but he’s all scrawny and pretty much a ginger. You should see the baby books; he ’as one strange little tot.”

    “I wouldn’t mind seein’ those books,” Snafu admits, much to Eugene’s dismay.

    “Are you done?” he asks his brother. He has a feeling Edward had been so polite during the meal just to make up for it right now in kind.

    “Ain’t even started,” Eddie says. “I got off track, where was I? Oh, right. ’Gene’s sweet and all that, but ’til recently I’ve been under the distinct impression that he’s a lifelong virgin.”

    “Eddie…”

    “Which is funny to me cuz with this revelation, you mighta’ been holdin’ out on me last year when I asked if that was still on your resumé.” Edward raises his eyebrows expectantly. “So is it?”

    “Is what?”

    “Do I have to spell it out?” Eddie asks with a roll of his eyes. “Are you still doin’ yourself in a twin, Eugene? Or are you gettin’ help from Mr. Crescent City? Oh, and is he any good?” Eddie lifts a lone judgemental brow as he checks Merriell out. “Looks a little rough ’round the edges.”

    “You’re _way_ outta line,” Eugene bites, on his feet before he even realises that he’s shoving up off the chair. “You fuckin’ asshole. You can be a dick to me, I don’t give a shit, but don’t go sayin’ anythin’ about Snafu or I’ll knock you on your ass.”

    Edward actually appears taken aback at the outburst, and Snafu reaches up to grab Eugene’s hand with his. “Eugene, it’s alright,” he says quietly. Surprised at the softness, Eugene focuses on Snafu, and it takes him a second to process that he’s looking at Merriell and not his brother. He releases some of the tension in his body, giving Merriell’s hand a squeeze.

    “He’s my closest friend, Eddie,” he says. “Don’t make that mistake again.” Eugene tugs and Snafu obliges, standing to go back into the house.

    “Nice talkin’ with you, Eddie,” he can’t resist calling over his shoulder.

    Eugene releases Snafu only when they’re behind the bedroom door. “I’m sorry, Mer’. There’s no excuse. I swear, he’s even said he wants to go to New Orleans; he’s just…”

    “I get it,” Snafu shrugs. He doesn’t specify what exactly he gets about wherever Eugene had been headed, and a moment passes. “I di’n’t need defendin’,” he adds. “I been facin’ shit all my life, ’Gene; yo’ brother ain’t the first and he definitely ain’t the last.” He looks over at Eugene through his obscenely long eyelashes. “But it’s appreciated, anyhow.”

    Eugene swallows and nods. “Yeah. ’Course. You know, uh, if you want, we can go over to the movies. Prob’ly still got that second _Nightmare On Elm Street_ playin’. Maybe even a Christmas one.”

    “Maybe another night,” Snafu says. “I’m beat. Let’s call it.” He pauses. “I mean, you can stay up. But I…”

    “No, no,” Eugene says hurriedly, “I’m whipped too. I’ll just tell everyone you aren’t feelin’ good and that we’re goin’ ta’ sleep.”

    Snafu nods and Eugene leaves, closing the door with a soft click behind him. With a frown, he makes back down to the first floor and outside, where his brother is smoking a cigarette.

    “I know this may not be the best time,” Eugene says. Edward Jr. pauses in his drag, attention falling on Eugene in question. “But Merriell and me are turnin’ in and I gotta say before we do that what you said just now, Eddie, was really uncool.”

    “Eugene…”

    “I told you: You can come after me long as the sun shines but don’t treat him like you do me, not ever. You implied that he’s trashy, comin’ from Louisiana, and I have ta’ be honest with you, it wasn’t the least bit funny.”

    “Don’t be a spazoid, ’Genie,” Eddie scoffs. “He can take it; he isn’t a kid.”

    “And who do you think knows Merriell better, you or his boyfriend?” Eugene snaps. “I’d bet on me.” It’s the product of a lie, but at the same time, it isn’t.

    “You’re too soft. I thought the city’d make you tougher.”

    Eugene turns to leave. “Well, Eddie, looks like we’re all disappointed tonight.”

    “Yeah, you check your pockets ’round him?” Eddie says, words harsh and not fit to be anywhere near the warmth of their home and his and Snafu’s peach cobbler, the cobbler Eddie hadn’t had a problem eating so much of earlier on.

    Angered somehow more than ever by the thought, Eugene spins on his heel and lands a punch right across his brother’s jaw. It isn’t enough to push him down to the wooden floor, but Eddie grips his face in his palm regardless, a trickle of ruby-red blood trailing slowly down his chin.

    “I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” Eugene swears. “Say one more thing—”

    “Eugene!” Mary exclaims, her face aghast. Edward comes from behind her and, while his face isn’t quite as horrified, his eyes are sharp. “What have you done?”

    “He was speakin’ bad about Merriell, Mama,” Eugene defends himself, trembling with suddenly wet eyes and a sore hand. “Said he’s nothin’ more ’an a pickpocket an’ trash. I couldn’t just let him…”

    “Eugene, go upstairs. Leave it be. I need ice, Mary, please,” Edward orders as he guides Edward to his feet. Eugene hasn’t moved. “Eugene, do I have ta’ tell you again? Go, now!”

    Eugene flies up the staircase and doesn’t stop until he’s in the bathroom. His heart is pounding and he can’t breathe. It’s starting to sink in that he’s just just punched his brother across the face. Never once had they hit like that. Slugs to the stomach, kicks to shins, sure, but Eugene had crossed a line with this one. But Edward had crossed a line in saying what he had about Snafu. Eugene would’ve done the same thing had Eddie been trashing Leyden, or Burgie. He would’ve done the same thing to defend them, his best friends.

    He swallows hard, wiping violently at the unexpected tears on his face. Eddie was right, he’s soft. Crying like this over one punch. A knock comes at the door, and a part of him badly wants it to be Snafu.

     “’Gene, baby?” Mary says through the wood. “Honey, are you okay?”

    “I’m fine,” Eugene croaks, and then clears his throat. “I’m fine, Mama,” he repeats more clearly. “I’m just tired.”

    A hesitation. “Alright. Your hand is gonna need icin’.”

    “I know. I’ll… I’ll get to it.”

    “Okay,” and for some reason Mary isn’t pushing as she normally would. “Good night, sweets. I love you.”

    “You too, Mama.” Eugene rubs preemptively at the fresh tears that threaten to stain his cheeks. His chest has stopped heaving, and he feels less nauseous than a couple minutes ago. He brushes his teeth and swishes Listerine on autopilot, then swipes and bags cubes of ice from the freezer faster than lightning as to avoid his family.

    Eugene returns to his bedroom where Snafu is already tucked safely beneath his blankets. His eyes are closed peacefully, whether he’s faking it or not to save Eugene the shame of what he’s overheard, and Eugene’s heart twists in his chest. Sitting here, a mound of ice pressed to his knuckles, he doesn’t regret hitting Eddie. He doesn’t because it meant defending Merriell, one of the funniest and kindest men Eugene’s ever known. So he can’t regret it, and he also can’t find it in himself to mind that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love :)


	4. Caught in a Landslide

    If Snafu did in fact hear what occurred the night prior, he doesn’t let on in the morning. He rolls over and his eyes find Eugene, who is already awake and staring at the ceiling.

    “You alright?” Snafu asks.

    “Yeah. I’m good.” With that, Snafu rolls out of bed. Eugene watches him skeptically. “Hot date?”

    “Did you forget?” Snafu grins a little. “We all got church this mornin’ at eight. It’s half past six now.”

    “She can’t make you go to service with us.”

    “No, but I can choose to. ’Sides, wouldn’t look good, yo’ lovin’ boyfriend not goin’ with you an’ yo’s to church.”

    Eugene totters sleepily over to the dresser where he’d unloaded his clothing and rifles through the rest for his designated ‘church service slacks.’ “I guess.” Eugene doesn’t want to address the fact that no one there knows, or will ever know, that he’s gay, much less ‘dating’ Snafu. He really has no reason to go with the Sledges, but Eugene isn’t about to say so. “Whatcha wanna do today, after?” he moves on. “Usually we go for coffee at the diner down the road with my ma’s friends but we could split from the rest and do our own thing.”

    “You know, you have yet to show me ’round this town, Sledgehamma’,” Snafu points out.

    “Okay, yeah. I could… give you a tour. If you want. There isn’t all that much to see save some fields, but…”

    “Sounds divine,” Snafu says with a grin.

* * *

     It’s helpful that he and Merriell aren’t naturally touchy with each other, even in their platonic way, so that their standing side by side in the pew is almost the same as if Eugene were stuck next to Edward Jr. Eddie had left late after the showdown with his brother, which meant that Eugene instead was between Snafu and his mother.

    The most touching the boys displayed was when their knees occasionally bumped upon sitting and when attendees were required to join hands during the Our Father. Eugene tried to hold Snafu in the same way that he did Mary to his right, but afterward, when everyone was meant to show love for thy neighbor through handshakes and hugs, if Snafu may have given Eugene’s hip a gentle press by way of ‘a sign of peace,’ Eugene didn’t make it obvious. He just smiled in the slightest, cursing his surely pink cheeks.

    “So, you boys’ joinin’ us for breakfast?” Edward Sr. asks in the parking lot.

    “Uh, I’s actually thinkin’ I could show Mer’ around a bit,” Eugene says. “If that’s alright.”

    “Oh, of course,” Mary dismisses with a wave of her manicured fingers. “You two haven’t had quality time since you arrived; go, enjoy. I can whip somethin’ up for lunch if you like?”

    “We’ll figure it out,” Eugene says, “but thanks, Mama.”

    “You need a ride someplace?”

    “We got all day ta’ walk.” He kisses her cheek and Snafu sends the Sledges a smile before Mary and Edward part for their car.

    “We really walkin’ in this Alabama heat?” Snafu asks, incredulous.

    “Please, this is nothin’. You’re from Louisiana; I can’t believe you’re complainin’ about Mobile in December.”

    “Yeah, well, New York’s changed me. Made me soft.”

    Eugene laughs. “Yeah, it is weird up there. It’s cold more often ’an it is even close to bein’ warm. I guess they’re used to it, like we’re used to heat, but damn if I could live with freezing car doors and slush on my shoes.”

    “We’ve got through these past couple years. We still alive, ain’t we? Ain’t froze to death yet.”

    “Mm. A fine task, in my dinky cot and no way to change the temp’ in my dorm.”

    “You gotta fin’ someone to keep you warm, Sledgehamma’,” Snafu jokes, and Eugene blushes.

    “Yeah, well, that isn’t my biggest worry, you know that.”

    “I do,” Snafu agrees, and leaves it at that. “Well, what’s on the agenda today? What wild sights does Alabama got for me?”

    “I was thinkin’ we could check out the Botanical Gardens.” At Snafu’s look, Eugene becomes shy. “You know how much I like flowers an’ stuff like that. It’s my favorite spot. I mean, we ain’t gotta go if you aren’t…”

    “No,” Snafu disagrees. “I could stand to see some flowers. They got gardenias?”

    Eugene’s mouth pulls into a smile. “Yeah, I’d reckon they do.”

    “I’m in.”

* * *

    Eugene is happy that the garden is open on a Sunday. (It never fails to surprise him any time he shows up at a store or what not and they allow him inside, like every God-fearing citizen in this town is expected to be genuflecting in church all day.) Admission is just two dollars to see everything the gardens have to offer and Eugene has been here more times than he can count since its opening in ’74.

    His first love has always been nature. When he was a boy, he was known to lay on his back in the field nearest the house for hours just staring up at the sky or gazing at the wildflowers. He’d wander around and examine as many as he could and never grew tired of doing so, no matter how many times he did it. Eugene knew from a young age that the only place he would ever want to live is one like Mobile, at least by way of the foliage and opportunities to simply exist.

    While the city may be a good broadening of his horizons for the short period he’d be there for school, it was far too noisy and packed for him to be permanently. His mother’s worrying may be a nag at him, but Eugene could never stay away from Mobile if only for the fields and radiant sunshine that had warmed his cheeks from birth.

    “See, this here’s called witch-hazel. You may’ve heard ‘winterbloom,’ but I like the other name better.”

    “Looks like a fuckin’ demon,” Snafu says, laughing.

    Eugene observes its yellow, tendril-like ‘petals’ and darker center. “It’s definitely different. But they’re good for all kinds a’ things in medicine, so I’d study up. You ain’t taken a course in identifyin’ plants yet, Dr. Shelton?”

    “Not yet,” Snafu says. “I don’t think I need to when I have you.”

    Eugene hates that his face warms at Snafu’s casual tease. “I do know my stuff,” he replies, grinning. “Isn’t much to do in Mobile growin’ up ’side roamin’ outside. And can you blame me for bein’ fascinated?”

    He points out another flower, mixed white and pink. “Like, right here’re the camellias. They can be used in teas and, combined with sesame oil, can be used to treat burns.” Still stuck on the plant, Eugene shakes his head. “It’s incredible, all these pretty things can serve so many damn purposes. They’re _miracles_ , you know?” Eugene pauses and looks over at Snafu, who is eyeing him. “What’d I do?”

    “Nothin’. Just I ain’t ever seen you talk so passionate about anythin’ before.”

    “Sure you have.”

    “I promise I have _not_. Maybe you should consider goin’ into this field, ’Gene. Study flowers for a livin’.”

    “Not a chance.”

    “Why?”

    “Snaf’, I can’t.”

    “ _Why_ not?”

    “Cuz I’m already the queer in my family, Snafu,” Eugene answers, testy. “Imagine me, sayin’ I wanna switch my career goal to ‘professional flower expert.’” Eugene scoffs and shakes his head. “Jesus. Bad enough I ain’t in med—”

    “How many times we gotta go over this, Boo?” Snafu demands. “You do what _you_ wanna do. And if you really think anyone in this town gives two damns what you’re doing at all times then you’re more full a’ you’self than I thought.”

    Eugene gnaws his bottom lip, attention seemingly on the flowers. “I like to write,” he says, same as he had yesterday, but it’s more resigned than anything.

    “I know,” Snafu says. “But don’t be a writer just cuz you worried about bein’ the guy who loves flowers, ’Gene. You know this shit better than anythin’ and it could take you places, bein’ so fuckin’ smart. Try usin’ the gift ’stead of treatin’ it like a defect.”

    Eugene is quiet, then he says, “How come every talk we have ends in heartfelt advice?”

    “Cuz yo’ fuckin’ high-maintenance, that’s why,” Snafu answers, not serious, and shrugs away from the arm that the smiling Eugene puts over his shoulders.

    “I got somewhere else in mind, if you’re up for it,” Eugene says once a few seconds have passed in companionable silence. “Unless you’re hungry.”

    “Nah, whatchu got fo’ me?”

    “Come on.”

    About an hour later, Snafu glances around at land he recognizes. “You takin’ me back to the house?”

    “No, just follow.” Eugene leads Snafu all the way up the winding driveway and around to the backyard. “Few more minutes.”

    “This better be worth my effort, Sledge, I swear to God.”

    “Would you quit the whinin’?”

    They trail along a path in a woodsy area until Eugene’s smile widens and he moves a little quicker. “We’re here!” he announces. “Come on, slowpoke, shake a tail feather!”

     “Give a guy some warnin’ ’fore you take off!” Snafu calls to his back. “Jaysus! Eugene!” He runs ahead and comes to a halting stop at the top of a little hill overlooking a vast, golden field. The Alabama sun is burning in the sky and beneath it, stood in the grass, is a grinning Eugene.

    He lifts his arms into the air. “Whatcha think, Mer’? Worth the walk?”

    Snafu’s gaze wanders everywhere, trying to take it all in, and he shakes his head. “I take it you been here before.”

    “Every day growin’ up, seemed like,” Eugene replies. Already he’s got a wildflower twirling between his thin fingers. “It’s where I first started lookin’ at flowers, gettin’ into nature and the like. This is my Mobile haven.”

    Snafu breathes in and smells nothing but fresh air. “I can see why,” he says. “What d’you do out here?”

    “Lay on the grass and take a load off, what else? Come on.” Eugene drops right where he stands so that he’s settled comfortably on his sweatered back. Snafu does the same, about two feet to Eugene’s left. “I’d stay here for hours. It’s the one place Mama never worried over my bein’ at. Ever I left the house, here’s where she could find me.”

    “It’s quiet,” Snafu says. “Not like New York.”

    “You can’t even imagine how hard it was the first months at Columbia,” Eugene says, hands interlocked over his abdomen. “I couldn’t barely sleep for all the honking and city noise out the window. Mobile’s always calm. ’Specially here.”

    “If there was any place in the world that embodies who you are, this is it,” Snafu says, turning his head to look at Eugene. “All sunny on the surface with a trillion billion secrets waitin’ ta’ be found out.”

    “No secrets here,” Eugene denies. “I’m an open book.”

    “Mhm.” Snafu reverts his eyes to the sky. “Clouds are fuckin’ neat.”

    “Huh?”

    Snafu shrugs. “Just are. Thought I’d share.” Eugene laughs lightly at his friend’s unsurprising randomness, and he’s hit with a sudden wave of gratitude that Snafu is here with him right now. He says so, and Snafu raises his eyebrows. “Gee, Sledge. I’m real touched.”

    “Asshole.”

    “Hey, I’m serious!” Snafu says and waits for Eugene to stop laughing. “I am,” he repeats, but his voice matches the sentiment this time. “Not every day we get to lay our asses down in paradise.” Eugene hums in agreement, eyes closed. “Glad you chose me to be your beau. Otherwise I’d be in Nawlins with _my_ family, and I don’t need that.”

    “Why d’you do that?” Eugene asks.

    “What?”

    “I try to avoid talkin’ about ’em cuz I know you don’t like ’em, but it’s sorta hard to guess what’s on the table when you say stuff like that.”

    “Eugene, hell, whatchu you wanna know?”

    Eugene hesitates. He hadn’t expected Snafu to ask. “You never say much,” he murmurs. “I don’t wanna bother you.”

    “It’s no bother. Just I…” Snafu squirms on the grass. “My parents aren’t half as good as yours, ’Gene, like _good_. You know, ‘church-goin’, neighbor-lovin’, my son is gay and I don’t give a damn’ kinda good. And me bein’ the eldest, I got my three sisters and two brothers who I always was stuck cookin’ fo’, washin’ fo’, doin’ just ’bout anythin’ fo’. And it wasn’t enough fo’ my folks.”

    He shrugs his shoulders and Eugene watches Snafu’s face as he thinks. “I joke like. ’Bout ’em payin’ fo’ school ta’ get me away, but it ain’t really jokin’. I…” Snafu sits up suddenly and pulls at his hair. Eugene pushes onto his elbows, not as quickly as Snafu, and waits.

    “It’s sorta backward,” Snafu says eventually. “I never had a college plan, when I’s a boy. I’d been carin’ for the kids my whole life and di’n’t think there’s anythin’ else I could do. But then I told ’em I’m queer, and all a’ sudden they pulled out their ass that I needed ta’ make somethin’ a’ myself, else I’d stay in their house the rest a’ my life and fuck up the others.”

    Eugene blinks as he takes this in. “You… you aren’t fucked up,” is all he can think to say. Snafu snorts. “They paid part a’ your tuition just so you’d be gone? Cuz you’re...”

    “Yessir. Fuck ’em tho, cuz if there’s a chance I coulda messed the kids up it’d be done already after so long.” Snafu looks sidelong at Eugene. His face is calm, but his eyes betray a pain that isn’t so easily masked. Eugene can’t believe that he’s gone two years without noticing it, whenever Snafu laughed about his ma or shitty home life. Eugene hadn’t wanted to think that it could be all bad. But evidently it had been.

    “They never… You weren’t ever hit, were you?” Eugene asks softly.

    “Not more ’an normal,” Snafu replies. “Nah. My parents might be uneducated dicks but they can spit a mean insult when it suits ’em.”

    “Hold on, wait,” Eugene says. “Wait. You said they don’t want you there, but you still go home for holidays?” His eyes search Snafu’s face, which has suddenly turned away. “Mer’, was that a lie? That you go home? Do you go someplace else instead?”

    “Jaysus, Eugene, it don’t matter; let’s just move on.”

    “I can’t.”

    “And that’s why I ain’t told you ’til now and why Bill and Burgie ain’t ever gonna know, cuz they’d look at me like you are just now.”

    “Like what?” Eugene asks, flabbergasted.

    “Like I’m a fuckin’ street-rat orphan,” Snafu snaps. He shoves up and paces some feet away. “Shit, Sledge. Look, I do alright. And for the record, I don’t go back to Louisiana and sleep on the street. I stay in New York and bus tables for pay. It ain’t hard, all’s to do is turn in a form to the dormin’ office. Don’t gotta worry ’bout me.”

    “Snafu, all these holidays you could a’ been here with me,” Eugene says, walking after him. “With my family, I mean, all of us.”

    “We already talked ’bout this, Eugene. I ain’t a charity and I don’t need yo’ folks spendin’ their money on me more ’an what’s necessary fo’ this trip.” Snafu exhales and hangs his head. He’s stopped walking just before reaching the hill. “Maybe this wasn’t so good a plan after all.”

    “What?”

    “Me bein’ here as your… I mean, I’m no Romus Burgin.”

    “What the fuck’s that mean?”

    “It means I heard what your brother said last night,” Snafu erupts, eyes blown wider than even their usual. “I di’n’t wanna say nothin’ cuz I know you don’t see me the same as he does but you know, I gotta admit it’s startin’ ta’ make sense. Bad enough you’re queer but ta’ be seen with me can’t be better.”

    “Merriell, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re talkin’ about but you’d better quit while you’re sorely behind.” Eugene races after Snafu, who has begun to stomp through the woods for the house. “You ain’t makin any _sense_ —”

    “No, I think I’m makin’ perfect goddamn sense,” Merriell counters. “You’re the son of a doctor and a woman named after the Holy Virgin. I’m the son of a drunk and an outta-work seamstress. You got a house with a field to lay in not a mile away in a town where everyone is fuckin’ gung-ho rain or shine, and I got the Crescent City, where the best-known advice to tourists is ta’ watch their wallets, pockets, and watches. That’s what _I_ got. And now there’s you, Mista’ Peace, punchin’ out yo’ brother on my behalf?”

    “I barely nicked him, and I woulda’ done the same for—”

    “It don’t matter what you’d’ve done for Burgie or Leyden. It’s just me here.”

    Eugene decides to approach this from a different angle. “Snafu, Eddie’s an asshole. ’Far as I’m concerned, he can keep his shit opinions to himself, cuz my parents adore you.”

    “Cuz they don’t know nothin’ about me.”

    “What’s there to know other than what they already do?” Eugene demands, arms raised in question. “You’re gay, _like me_ ; you go to Columbia, _with me_ ; we’re friends with the _same two guys_! Fuck, we’re practically the same person, Snaf’, and you’re actin’ like you’re the Judas to my Messiah! Let me tell you, you ain’t that special.”

    Snafu spins to face him. “Fuck you, Sledge.”

    “No, you know what, Snafu, fuck you.”

    “Fuck you.”

    “Fuck _you_!” Eugene says, shoving Snafu’s chest.

    By this point, the two are all but having a yelling match in the Sledges’ backyard. Snafu pushes Eugene and within seconds, they’re tussling on the ground.

    Breathing hard, Eugene says, “You’re a fuckin’ asshole. Actin’ like a fuckin’ victim, some kinda martyr. You ain’t either a’ those.”

    “Whateva’ you say, Sledge,” Snafu pants, and then abruptly yanks himself away and is on his feet in the next second.

    “What the fuck are we even fightin’ about?” Eugene asks from where he’s still sprawled across the green grass. “Your life bein’ worse than mine? What’s the objective in this, Snafu? Am I supposed to hate you? Do you want me to?”

    Snafu rubs his eyes, shaking his head. “What is this, twenty fucking questions with Eugene Sledge?” he asks tiredly. “Maybe I’s tired. I dunno. I need… I gotta go somewhere for a bit. I’ll see you.”

    “What?” Eugene says, scrambling to stand. “You got hardly any cash on you and you don’t know your way ’round—”

    “I’m sure I’ll manage,” Snafu says. He’s got a hand raised like a stop sign toward Eugene. “I’ll be back later. Don’t worry about it.”

    “Merriell, come on…”

    “Eugene, I gotta go,” Snafu says again, and then he’s disappearing around the side of the house. Eugene remains stuck in his shoes, completely astonished. He can hardly remember the past twenty minutes. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that he hasn’t got a clue what their argument was even about.

    Was Snafu upset about Eddie’s insults, as had been mentioned, or because the Sledges were more well-off than the Sheltons, which had also been mentioned? Eugene’s head is pounding and he feels sick to have let Snafu go. If he hurries, he could catch him, but he isn’t sure if that’s what’s best right now.

    So he pushes his fingers through his hair, blinks twice to clear his mind, and goes up through the porch door into the house. He’s just lucky that, by the grace of God, no one had heard the shouting. He retrieves a glass of water and sees a note tacked to the fridge, an explanation: Mary and Edward went to catch a movie. Eugene smiles and bites his lip to keep himself from crying. He downs the water in one go, which relieves a bit of his headache, and decides on a shower. It’s only three in the afternoon, but his best friend isn’t here to keep him company with actually interesting activities. Hasn’t got much else.

    Eugene turns the knob to the hottest it can go, which has never been hot enough for as long as he’s lived here, and looks at himself in the mirror. He turns his face to the left, examining his skin. He hadn’t needed to start shaving until the summer before college, an eternal baby face his curse. He scrunches his nose at himself and then moves down to look at his chest. Still so skinny and pale. He’s been trying to work out at Columbia’s facility, usually with Snafu, but he can’t say he’s noticed much of a difference. He sighs. As usual, this is as good as it gets.

    He steps into the bathtub and tries to clear his brain of all thoughts that aren’t shower-related. The water feels beyond comforting to his sore back and feet, and Eugene has to appreciate the fact that at least here he doesn’t feel inclined to wear sandals in the shower to avoid a foot fungus. College life, for all its perks, is a bitch sometimes. Despite himself, this brings him back to Merriell. That fight was just so out of the blue that Eugene isn’t at all sure how to begin understanding its cause. Snafu wasn’t one to discuss personal matters, so maybe the innate intimacy of doing so triggered an emotional—albeit an evidently angry—response.

    He was right to not have wanted to push the subject, but now it was too late and Snafu was off somewhere doing God knows what. Eugene presses his forehead to the wall. He hasn’t got any real reason to worry. Sure, Snafu has a temper and someone on the street shooting him one accidental wrong look could activate a fight or flight response (which most likely would be the former). He can’t worry about that, though, because Jesus Christ—Merriell is a grown man! He can worry about his damn self for a second while Eugene takes a fucking shower.

    But Snafu isn’t a fighter. He isn’t. He pretends to be, and likes to play the part of a tough. He’s street-wise, of course, but that hasn’t made him totally hard. All bark and no bite. How could he all at once shove Eugene away after telling him important truths about his past with the same fingers that will one day certainly save lives, and next month be back to sketching the coffee mugs in Leyden’s kitchen? And how could he look at Eugene with such hurt in the same eyes that are usually pierced through with good humor and tears of laughter when watching the _Goonies_?

    He can see Merriell so clearly in his mind. His pale irises wide on Eugene when he grabbed Snafu’s waist and dumped flour over his hair, or his chest lifting and falling evenly as he breathed beside Eugene in bed. A warmth pools in Eugene’s gut, and he gasps quietly from the unexpected weight of the feeling. He pictures Merriell again and the feeling persists, strengthens when he sees Snafu’s tongue sweep over his pouted lips and his gaze flicker over Eugene’s face.

    Before he’s realised what he’s doing, Sledge has taken himself in hand. Just that slight sensation has his forehead pressing more firmly against the wall of the shower. The water beats at the skin of his back and he’s sure it must be redder than anything but he can’t move, again frozen in place. He twitches his palm just slightly and groans under his breath, but doesn’t have time to do anything more because a knocking at the door makes him jerk and nearly slide to the floor.

    “What?” he shouts, panting as though he’s just sprinted a mile.

    “Eugene, it’s almost four. Is Merriell here somewhere?” She doesn’t think Eugene would shower with Merriell. She doesn’t, does she? And did her voice even imply that in the first place or is Eugene just losing it?

    “No uh, he went for fresh air,” he manages to call to her. “Should be back any minute.”

    “Alright, well, I’m startin’ dinner. Clean on up in there.”

    Eugene grimaces. Nothing to clean up, seeing as he’d been interrupted. “Got it.” She must go because it becomes quiet once again. He turns off the water and stands there, dripping. He can’t fathom it, the notion that if hadn’t Mary shown up, he’d have jerked to the memory of one of his closest friends, a friend who’d taken up this entire lie of being into each other just to help him. Did he really have so little self control?

    Eugene shakes his head at himself and towels off. One thing was for sure: He wouldn’t be telling Snafu, and that was only if Snafu returned willing to speak to him. He pushes away the thought that the the other boy might decide not to return to the Sledge house at all. That isn’t a possibility. But Snafu’s hurt expression creeps again into Eugene’s mind, his worry along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--Almost masturbation in the shower


	5. I Would Not Care to Say

    Alleviating Eugene’s concern that Merriell had run off and caught the first train to New Orleans, Snafu does show up a few minutes prior to supper, two bouquets of flowers rested against his chest. He gives the roses to Mary with a smile and she gasps as he does, hugging him to her like he’s just given her a bar of gold.

    “Why peach?” she asks, hurrying into the kitchen to trim the stems for a vase.

    “The florist told me each color’s got a meanin’,” Snafu explains, a little sheepish. “Peach is gratitude and appreciation. Fittin’, seein’ as you’ve done so much for me here.”

    “Oh, you’re just too sweet, I swear. But who’s the other arrangement for?”

    Ears ringing, Eugene appears right then. He leans in the doorway with crossed arms, that insistent unsettled knot in his stomach as prominent as ever at the reappearance of Snafu. “What’re the flowers for?” he enquires.

    “For you,” Snafu says, his voice soft. He moves forward and settles the bouquet into Eugene’s rigid arms.

    “Camellias,” he says stupidly and lifts his eyes from the flowers back to Snafu’s face. “Mer’...”

    “I ’as a jackass earlier today,” Snafu interjects, and Mary can’t be blamed for listening in from across the kitchen, “and these’re ta’ say I’m sorry.”

    “But who sells these? I ain’t seen…”

    “I wen’ back ta’ the Botanical Gardens,” Snafu says, and his cheeks flush. “Got ’em to give me a few.”

    “They aren’t for sale!” Eugene exclaims. “This must a’ cost you a fortune, Snafu, I don’t need—” Snafu leans into Eugene and, like he’s done it a thousand times before, gives Eugene cheekbone a slow kiss. Eugene is too stunned to react.

    “I know you don’t. But I wanted to.” The blue-eyed boy nods once, like it’s done, and orders Eugene, “Give those to your mama so she can get ’em in a vase, now, go on.” Eugene nods dumbly and does as Snafu said.

    Mary smiles at her son, accepting the flowers into the sink from his shaky hands. “That boy is somethin’ else, I tell you, ’Gene. He’s so _sweet_ on you.” She presses her damp palm to the skin Snafu had kissed. “I’m so happy you found each other, honey. So happy.”

    “Me too,” Eugene answers, unaware that he’s speaking. Snafu was the best friend in the entire fucking world, and all Eugene can think about is the shower.

    “Alright now. Go on and grab that salad; dinner’s just about done.”

    Eugene takes the bowl into the dining room and ignores the smile his father has turned on him over his book. “That was a mighty nice bouquet you got, son,” Edward observes knowingly. “You think you should return the favor sometime?”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Eugene says snappishly. He has to admit that his mind was in a far dirtier place than a reciprocal bunch of flowers.

    “Eugene, what’s the matter?” Edward asks, concerned now.

    “Nothin’, Pa, I’m sorry. Sorry.” Eugene swipes at his jaw tiredly. “Hungry, I guess.”

    “Well, the sauce should cheer you up,” Edward says, closing his book onto the tabletop. “And Christmas is almost upon us as well, always been your favorite.”

    “Yeah.”

    Edward doesn’t have time to analyse his son’s downtrodden mood because Snafu comes bounding back from the upstairs just as Mary sweeps in from the kitchen with the bowl of pasta.

    “Time to eat!” she chirps happily. “I hope y’all are hungry for meatballs and sauce!”

* * *

     Eugene manages to get through the meal without having to volunteer much in conversation. Snafu supplies the details of their afternoon together, minus the nonsensical argument, and Edward shares what he is allowed to divulge about some recent work at the office. Mary chatters about the film they’d seen too, goes on about the absolutely divine bouquet gift from Snafu, and before Eugene knows it, supper has ended and he excuses himself to go to his bedroom. Snafu walks in a few minutes after him, shutting the door softly.

    “I really am sorry,” he says.

    “I just wanna know what it was,” Eugene counters, his upset from earlier that afternoon returning. “We were fine, and then you were pissed. What happened? Did I do somethin’?”

    “No,” Snafu swears. “My family gets me fucked up, and thinkin’ a’ them on top a’ Eddie got ta’ me. That’s it and all, Sledge. Just bad luck you ’er on the receivin’ end.”

    Sledge shakes his head, face against his palms. “I was real worried when you ran off like you did. Sort a’ thought you might not come back here.”

    “Where the fuck ’ould I sleep?”

    “Exactly,” Eugene says. “I di’n’t _know_. All I knew was that you were mad. Fat lot of good that did me.” Snafu looks at the carpet. “But then your ass walks in here with camellias and ruins my chance a’ chewin’ you out for the worry.”

    Snafu smiles a little. “You liked ’em?”

    “Fuck, a’ course I liked ’em, you idiot. And I’m glad you’re not dead.”

    “You know, I _can_ take care a’ myself—” At Eugene’s sharp look, Snafu backs off. “I was jokin’, but I can see now maybe wasn’t the best time fo’ it.”

    “You think?”

    “Al _right_ , Jaysus.” He looks at Eugene on the bed. “Are you goin’ ta’ sleep, or what? It ain’t even eight.”

    Eugene shrugs. “Never did see that movie.”

    Snafu grins. “Fine, but I ain’t keepin’ the light on if you get scared.”

    “There’s scarier things in the world than _Nightmare On Elm Street_ ,” Eugene says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m lookin’ at one of ’em.”

    “After the day you had, I’ll let you have that one.”

    “You’ll _let_ me?”

* * *

     Younger Eugene, as a a general rule, had never gone to the theater to see horror movies. He figured reality was plenty horrifying and forcing himself to sit through two hours of ghosts and/or women bludgeoned to death by a crazy jerk with blunt objects was a waste of time, but Snafu liked them so since they’d been friends, Eugene would go with him and the boys to the theater and button down his disinterest. Now, after a while, he’s come to find them fucking hilarious in their ridiculous premises and thinks of them more as comedy than horror.

    “Better or worse than the first?” he asks Snafu on the way out.

    “Sequels are always worse,” he gets in reply.

    “You’re tellin’ me you di’n’t like _The Empire Strikes Back_? Or _Return of the Jedi_?”

    “Nah, they wer’n’t bad. But the first is the _first_.” He laughs at Eugene’s shaking head. “We all got opinions, cher. But alright, ’Gene, they ’er all fuckin’ amazin’.”

    “Mhm.”

    “Swear on my life.”

    “Mhm,” Eugene humphs again, but he isn’t actually upset. He’s just glad that he and Snafu are back to themselves, bumping shoulders, talking like always. They aren’t at a loss for conversation on the walk home and the door is unlocked when they get there. Mary, evidently already asleep with Edward, left a note in her swirling cursive asking that they shut off the lights and lock up before retiring.

    “We could sit down here for a bit, get a fire goin’,” Eugene suggests, and Snafu agrees. “Wanna drink?”

    “Fo’ real?”

    “Why not? We ain’t gotta get hammered or anythin’,” Eugene says. “’Sides, we got nowhere to be tonight if we wanted to.” He pours himself and Snafu a glass of whiskey straight. His usual routine, Eugene knows he won’t do more than sip the alcohol slowly as he settles into the arm-chair across from the other nearest the fireplace. Snafu lights a match and gets it going. There isn’t much wood so it won’t last long, maybe just enough time for the boys to finish their drinks, but that’s enough. Even without a topper, Eugene’s feeling dozy.

    “I’m bone tired,” he voices.

    “What, you run a mile today?” Snafu teases. Eugene is immediately reminded of his slip in the shower earlier on, when he’d barely caught himself from toppling with his breath caught in his throat. He can’t find the ability to laugh at Snafu’s quip so he settles for a vaguely amused smile.

    Snafu leans back against the couch cushion, exhaling a breath. “I know a man’s eventually gotta live on his own, but this place is damn near perfect. Hard to believe you left.”

    “I know,” Eugene says. They go quiet and listen to the pop of the embers in the fireplace, the only sound to be heard in the house. “Soon we’ll be back in the freezin’ cold and chuggin’ coffee ta’ preserve what little heat we can. What a pleasant fuckin’ thought that is, huh?”

    “Wish we could pack this fire up an’ bring it with us.”

    “Yeah, I’m sure our R.A. would love that.”

    “You know, if we got an apartment we might have one.”

    Eugene looks at him. “An R.A.?”

    “An apartment, a fireplace. Like Leyden and Burgie. ’Stead a’ our balls fallin’ clean off in the dorms, we could live off-campus like they do. Not the worst idea. We already seen here we can live together.”

    “We nearly strangled each other today!”

    “An’ you have yet to let it go.”

    Eugene shakes his head, but he can’t help giving in to the tiniest of smiles. He doesn’t speak further on the topic of apartments and Snafu doesn’t push it.

    “You know, I…” Eugene thinks for a moment, and Snafu lets him. This thought among the many dangerous others had wedged itself within Eugene’s mind, and since this one was far less damaging than any else Eugene could admit to right now, he figures it could be nice to just fucking say it. “I been thinkin’ ’bout what you said,” he says finally, “’bout what I really want outta school.”

    “And?”

    “I can see myself writin’ books, short stories, stuff like that. But I… I can also see myself studyin’ plants under a microscope, discoverin’ things and… just creatin’ somethin’.” Eugene fiddles with his fingers around the glass. “I think I wanna make Creative Writin’ my minor. Major in Bio.”

    Snafu’s lips tug into a smile, and Eugene lifts his eyes to look at him. The world hasn’t exploded, the house is still in one piece around them, and everything’s okay. “That’s good, ’Gene,” Snafu says, genuine. “Real good. You ain’t gotta decide right this second, either. Stew on it.”  
    “Yeah, I will. Just wanted to tell you.”

    “Well, I’m honored.”

    Eugene chuckles softly. It felt right, the first person he let in on this major life decision being Merriell, one of his best friends and confidants. A tiny weight has lifted off his chest at having told someone, and he’s glad that it was Snafu.

    They don’t say much else after that, and once they’ve finished the whiskey in their glasses Eugene gives them a quick scrub in the sink and puts them exactly as he’d found them. Crouched beside the fireplace, Snafu meanwhile prods at the logs to put out the remaining weak flames.

    “Good?” Eugene asks. Snafu nods in confirmation and follows Eugene up the stairs, their tread as light as possible, to the bedroom. It had begun to storm, but they don’t want to test their luck with a creaky floorboard.

    Within ten minutes, the boys are wrapped beneath the bed-clothes, snug as bugs. They drift off to sleep with rain hitting the window across from the bed-frame and thunder echoing outside in the dark Alabama sky.

* * *

     Eugene isn’t certain how long it’s been when he wakes up some time later. It’s still storming and although his eyes are open, the hazy film to the darkness makes him feel as if he’s still in a dream. He blinks twice to be rid of it and then looks to his right, where Snafu is tucked sound asleep. He looks at the sharp curve of Merriell’s jaw, his rosebud mouth, the eyelashes barely brushing the tops of his cheekbones, then forces his eyes back to the ceiling. It’s weird to stare at someone who is unaware of it, especially when that someone is a friend. Hell, a lot of things about today have been weird. Jesus. This entire trip has been a doozy.

    Eugene adjusts in place and turns onto his side so that he faces away from Snafu. He wants to fall back into unconsciousness, but it’s like _because_ he wants to is exactly why his mind won’t allow him to. He flips onto his back one again and huffs, lips blowing out in frustration. Snafu stirs beside him. He freezes, hoping to stave off being to blame for waking his friend, but his luck has run out. Snafu’s eyes open and his gaze adapts to seeing Eugene in the dark. He doesn’t say anything, and Eugene almost hopes that Snafu is actually in the middle of a sort of motionless sleep-walk.

    They stare at one another, and if it were anyone else Eugene would say that it’s bordering on plain uncomfortable, but it _isn’t_ anyone else. It’s Merriell, and he’s looking right at Eugene with the softest sleepy glow in his eyes and Eugene doesn’t hate it. In fact, if he’s being quite honest, he likes it. Even only thinking that sends a shot through his body. Neck is beginning to stiffen, he rests on his side to properly look at Snafu. In the next second, Snafu is scooting closer.

    Their mouths meet just briefly, exhaustion and the remnants of whiskey laced on their lips. It’s over before it has begun and then, their legs are wound around each other, Snafu’s head nestled right to Eugene’s chest. Eugene doesn’t dare breathe. He adjusts so that he’s again on his back, but this time he’s got Merriell burrowed so close to his side that the smaller boy is all but laying on top of Eugene.

    Infinitely comfortable and his chin pressed to Snafu’s soft dark curls, Eugene is asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all SO MUCH for the love, it really does mean the world to me and I look forward to uploading because of you all. :) Thanks again and I hope you liked the update!!


	6. On This One Day of Days

    They don’t mention it. Eugene can’t really believe that they manage to avoid the subject, seeing as they’ve recently been in constant proximity at pretty much all times, but avoid it they do. Monday is without stress as Eugene reads on the back porch and Snafu assists Mary in baking. Eugene reads in the chair downstairs for as long as he can make himself before he can no longer keep his eyes open, and only then does he go upstairs to slip in beside the already sleeping Snafu. He lays stock still a few feet away from the shorter boy, as if proving a point that he’s still loath to even bring forward.

    A day comprised of hours that felt more like minutes later, it’s suddenly Christmas Eve, and Eugene is anxious to see his brother (among many other reasons) for the first time since the incident. He really hasn’t got a clue what to expect from Edward Jr., except maybe a tackle and a knee to his gut. On top of this are the nerves surrounding giving Snafu his present. He’d spent a painstaking amount of time trying to find the perfect gift, but shockingly, knowing that Snafu would love it didn’t at all ease Eugene’s chronically-worried mind. Just because they’ve spoken less doesn’t mean that he wants his gift to fall flat.

    Instead of talking, still evading whatever it is they need to say, he and Snafu spend the holiday-eve in the kitchen with Mary, Snafu once more on cookie duty and Eugene trying not to set anything aflame. It’s a flawless system, holiday music tinkling in the background of their laughter, and these moments all sort of feel too perfect after everything. For once, and especially after the aforementioned ‘everything that’s happened,’ Eugene wants to run with it for as long as he can, if only until it all inevitably implodes.

    “Ham is in the oven...”

    “Sure is.”

    “Turkey should be done in...”

    “Thirty minutes or so.”

    “Escarole and beans blanched...”

    “Check.”

    “And Merriell, darlin’, how’re the cookies comin’?”

    “Oven-ready, Mary,” he informs her.

    Mary beams. “Thank you boys so much for all you’ve done,” she croons, holding their faces in her hands to give them each a kiss, “you’ve been so helpful. Mwah. Thank you. The cranberry sauce is left, the—”

    “Ma!” Eddie yells from the front of the house. “I brought a bundt cake!”

    Mary scurries out of the kitchen to give her oldest son a hug and Eugene and Snafu share a look. Snafu lifts his chin just slightly toward the doorway and Eugene rolls his eyes but goes out.

    When Eddie spots his brother, he pauses. “Eugene.”

    “Eddie,” Eugene says, extending a hand. The same he’d used to punch with, the slight bruises all but gone on from the pallor of his complexion. “Good to see you.”

    Eddie accepts it hesitantly. “You too, baby brother. Merry Christmas.”

    “Same to you. Sit down, supper’s nearly ready.”

    “Won’t argue with that,” Eddie says, some of the tension dissipating from the room. Snafu smiles approvingly at Eugene and lifts a hand in greeting when Eddie calls a friendly hello to him. Their father pats Eugene’s back and gives him a wink before asking if anyone would like for him to pour drinks. Everyone does, of course.

    Despite the Sledges’ track record, there is no drama during dinner. Nothing but the lilt of Christmas music and laughter, all accented by Merriell’s smile, and Eugene can’t help smiling too. He’s actually happy to be home this year, and he isn’t so in-denial as to think it isn’t because of Snafu’s sitting here with them.

    As is their tradition, because Christmas Day is for the Lord, the Sledges open their assorted packages after dinner on the Eve. Mary beams at the tea-set Eugene had picked specially from a high-end shop in New York, not that he tells his frugal parents just how very high-end it was; Edward Sr. laughs heartily at the personalized tie covered in stethoscopes, of which Eugene had paired with matching socks; and even his brother likes his simple gift of a tee-shirt sporting the Van Halen logo. From Snafu, Eugene received an excessively soft, baby-blue blanket with a card that joked about the freezing nature of the dorms. (He’d added to the card in his chicken-scratch, doctor’s handwriting, You probably think I ran out somehow and got this after our talk the other night, but I swear on your wildflower field I got this months ago.) He grins and knows he’d definitely be getting use from it.

    Aware that his mother would have made Snafu open his gift first, Eugene had told her ahead of the fact to let him go last instead. She didn’t like it, Snafu’s being their guest and all, but because he ultimately was her son’s boyfriend, she let Eugene make the call. He’d given her an extra tight hug for that.

    So now, all eyes are on Snafu while he unwraps the gift to reveal a square box. He raises his eyebrows at Eugene, who shrugs like he isn’t completely aware of what is inside. He’s on his knees next to Snafu’s chair, leaned forward and lip bitten down expectantly as Snafu removes the top.

    “Eugene, what…” Precautionary bubble wrap pushed aside, Snafu’s face turns red. “You di’n’t do this for me—This ’as released this _month_. Eugene.”

    “Well, what is it?” Mary demands, excited and impatient. Snafu takes the gift from the box like it’s a baby to show a black box inlaid with gold lettering. It reads _Queen: The Complete Works_.

    “The newest Queen release,” Eugene says. Snafu is sitting there in silence, staring at the box like it’s full of cash. Eyes still on Snafu, gauging a reaction, Eugene goes on, “It came out the second a’ this month and I knew I had to get it for Mer’.” He lifts his eyebrows in wait. “So, you like it?”

    Snafu shakes his head. “You’re a _dream_ , you damn idiot,” he all but blurts, launching right down into Eugene’s kneeling form. Eugene’s arms envelop Snafu’s slim waist without a second of pause, a smile turned into his neck, and Mary’s eyes dampen at the sight. Even steel-cut Eddie can’t hide a grin. “This…” Again shaking his head, Snafu pulls back to look at him. “I can’t take this, ’Gene, it must a’ cost you a fortune. Are you outta yo’ mind?”

    “Just enough.” He gazes into Merriell’s familiar blue eyes, mind drifting to their stolen kiss two nights ago, and then remembers that they aren’t alone in the living room. He clears his throat in attempted nonchalance and disentangles himself from Snafu. “Well, the show’s over, I guess. Eggnog, anyone?”

    Mary claps her hands and goes to retrieve the beverage from the fridge. Eugene can’t bring himself to look at Snafu, knowing that if he did he would need to touch him, and buds don’t do that. He shoos away the stubborn part of his brain that reminds him buds probably don’t cuddle in their sleep, either, or kiss, or hug like the other is a fucking life raft, and that just maybe this whole ‘buds’ thing isn’t working in either of their favor anymore. Yep. Shoos it right away.

    The four play a particularly rousing game of Parcheesi (deserved win to Edward Sr.) after which follows a round of Scrabble (win to Eugene with ‘lacquers’ as the word that no one could believe he’d gotten). Then, in midnight Christmas tradition, they bundle up to roast marshmallows in the backyard pit. Eugene is on the slightest side of tipsy thanks to the spiked eggnog and the glow of the fire, plus his family surrounding him in laughter and inside jokes, makes him feel cocooned in a daze of comfort.

    Mary gives him and Snafu a big hug before she and Edward disappear for the night, and Eddie is about to take his leave for the guest bedroom when he motions for Eugene to follow him inside for a moment. Eugene obliges his brother and they stand just away from the door where Snafu can’t see them.

    “I didn’t apologise,” Eddie says straight away. “For all I said.”

    “I know.”

    “So I am now. I’m sorry. Talkin’ so much bull about your man. Wasn’t right. And I…” Eddie rubs his chin. “Shit, ’Gene. I see y’all together, and… I’m glad for you. That’s all.”

    Eugene, surprised by his older brother’s unusually kind words, nods slowly. “Thank you. That… Really, it means a lot. I shouldn’t have punched you. At least, not across the face.”

    Eddie grins and nudges Eugene’s shoulder with his fist. “The punch was deserved. Don’t sweat it. I’m leavin’ after church to meet some folks back in Montgomery, so I just wanted to get this all cleared away.”

    “Yeah. Thank you.”

    They look at each other for a second, and then Eddie shakes his head. “Jesus. We’re more like sisters than brothers.”

    “Why? Cuz we’re actually talkin’?”

    Eddie huffs a sound that must be a confirmation and turns for the stairs. “Shut up. I’m goin’ to fuckin’ sleep. ’Night, ’Gene.”

    “G’night, Eddie.”

    His brother glances back around on the second step. “Eh, ’Gene?”

    “Yeah?”

    “Don’t take my shit too seriously. You’re a good kid, you know?” Eugene ducks his head at the compliment. “Hey, don’t go gettin’ all big-headed ’bout it, though. I ain’t gonna stop messin’ with you just cuz you’re a nice guy.”

    “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eugene agrees, but he’s grinning. Eddie retreats before his smile can be made obvious, and Eugene sighs out a breath that leaves his chest feeling much lighter.

    He considers having another drink, but he’s so sleepy that he decides against it and is in agreement when Snafu says that sleep is their best bet if they want to feel rested in time for the Christmas church service. Eugene’s grateful that Mary allows them to attend the afternoon mass for the holiday, because it’s nearing two in the morning and if they’d have been scheduled to go to the eight a.m., Eugene would’ve slipped right out of consciousness in the pew.

    Neither he nor Snafu bother to brush their teeth and, having changed into pajamas before they’d toasted  marshmallows, can fall right into bed. Without thinking and within moments, they’ve slotted their bodies together like puzzle pieces and drift off much easier than they had when they’d slept apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuh i would nut if i got queen: tcw as a gift so jot that down dhfdksfhlj and YES of course eugene had to win w lacquers just like brian bc duh. hope you guys like the (early-ish) update :))


	7. How Do You Feel Right After All

    Mass passes uneventfully, although when it comes to the Our Father Snafu and Eugene hold hands a bit tighter than the last time. Home again, Edward and Mary go for a walk, her arm held affectionately in his, and Eddie says goodbye to the family. He ruffles a fist into Eugene’s hair before clapping his back in an embrace. Maybe it’s the spirit of the day, or the conversation from the night prior, but Eugene feels a swell of love for his brother and is glad that his punch hadn’t done too much damage to either his face or their relationship.

    He wanders toward the kitchen to see Snafu with the phone in hand, its white corkscrewed chord dangling along the wall. “I miss you too, Sammy. Yeah, I know you don’t, but _they_ do. Enough a’ that. Hey, give my love ta’ the rest; I dunno when the next time’ll be I get ta’ talk ta’ you all. Merry Christmas.” Snafu returns the phone to its dock. He keeps his hand against it for another second, like he’s trying to absorb whatever remains of the call into himself as a keepsake.

    “Your brother?” Eugene asks gently.

    “Ain’t got ’im on the line in months,” Merriell confirms. “Folks always got an excuse why I can’t talk with ’em, the kids. Got lucky this time, them bein’ outta the house right now.”

    “I’m sorry you have ta’ go through that, Mer’,” Eugene says, meaning it.

    “Yeah, me too. But ’least I got the time I did.” Snafu sighs and takes a bite from a cookie that had been waiting for him on a napkin. “ _Damn_ these’re good. I should be a fuckin’ chef.”

    “A chef-doctor, that’d be an odd career.”

    “Says you, the botanist-writer,” Snafu jokes, offering Eugene the rest of the frosted cookie. Their fingers brush. “We’re both a couple a’ weirdos.”

    “Couple a’ weirdos with a box a’ Queen records. Wanna give ’em a spin?”

    “I thought you’d neva’ ask, Sledgehamma’.”

    Snafu bounds up the stairs to retrieve the box, which is fairly hefty, and has appeared back in the living room moments later. Eugene watches in amusement as he pulls the chosen record with agonizing caution from its sleeve, tongue bitten down in concentration while he checks it for any issues. Finally, he settles it beneath the needle. The first song begins and Snafu, almost without meaning to, begins to move along to the opening chords.

    “I think you only got me these records to poke fun at my dancin’,” he says to Eugene, who is biting back a laugh.

     “Nothin’ you can prove, Shelton.”

     “Well, I ain’t dancin’ alone,” Snafu announces, pulling Eugene up and forward by the hand. After about twenty minutes in, they’re already sweating and Snafu grins, changing the record and moving the needle to begin “We Will Rock You.” The song’s parent album, _News of the World_ , is one of his favorites on its own and despite being worn out from all the dancing, he puts even more energy into these songs than he had the others. When Eugene collapses onto the sofa, Snafu only laughs, still jumping around like a kid.

    “You quitin’ on me already, Sledge?”

    “You’re bat-shit,” Eugene huffs, swiping his wrist over his forehead. “Jesus.” He cranes his neck at the front door’s opening and waves tiredly at his parents. “How ’as the walk?” he asks.

    “You boys are somethin’ else,” Mary says, shaking her head. “I take it you like the gift, Merriell?”

    “Very much,” Snafu answers. How he can sound collected and polite while he’s bouncing so wildly is beyond them all. He lifts the needle then, breathing hard, “It’s the best.”

    “Good,” Mary says with a smile. “What a nice gift, Eugene.”

    “I try,” he manages. He’s starting to catch his breath, thank goodness, when Snafu falls down beside him, his head dropping backward onto the top of the cushion. He laughs in a puff at his friend’s red-tinted cheeks.

    “Your mother and I ran into the Caswells down the way, and they’ve invited us for a little holiday lunch,” Edward informs the room. “Would you boys like to join us? We’re goin’ in just a few minutes.”

    “No, that’s alright,” Eugene declines. “I’mma shower an’ read a bit.”

    “An’ I got a box-set worth a’ records to wear in,” Snafu adds.

    “Very well, then,” Edward says. “Enjoy your afternoon, boys.”

    “Thanks, Pa,” Eugene calls at the same time Merriell says, “Thank you, Edward.”

    Eugene looks sideways to Snafu. “You wanna wash up first?”

    “If you don’t mind.”

    “Nope. You broke more of a sweat anyway, all the wigglin’ you did. Fuckin’ psycho.”

    Snafu smacks his chest harmlessly, standing to go upstairs. “’Least _I_ know how to move an’ look good doin’ it,” he points out with a shake of his behind. “Whereas you look like a jellyfish stingin’ itself.”

    “That’s not much in the holiday spirit!”

    “Somethin’ tells me you’ll survive,” Snafu replies from the top of the stairs. Eugene grins, shaking his head, and figures that he may as well go on with his book if he has to wait for the bathroom. He goes to the second floor and stretches leisurely onto the blankets, flipping through the pages to where he last left off. The running water serves a distraction so he gets back up to close the door for some quiet, but he pauses. As usual, he can’t help thinking of Sunday and what had almost happened in the shower, what he’d considered doing when he’d been in the same position Merriell now was. His most recent shower had been under cold water just to avoid any temptation. This train of thought leads him to recall how he and Snafu had more than once found themselves snuggled into each other’s arms over the past couple nights, and how good it felt to be so close even in sleep.

    Rubbing the crease from his furrowed brows, Eugene blows out a stream of air. He leans against the doorframe and listens to the running water. Somehow, Eugene places himself there with Merriell, and he can all but see the short, dark ringlets clinging to Snafu’s forehead and sudsy fingers pushing them away, his face peaceful as it tilts to the ceiling. Eyelashes brushing his cheekbones and lips slick with water as he hums to himself.

    Eugene pounds a fist to the wall, willing the damn tension in his pants to go away. When the shower turns off, it’s like ice being shoved down the back of his shirt and Eugene throws himself onto the bed. He inhales slowly and re-adjusts his focus to the words on the page. If nothing else, he’d be in the bathroom momentarily to take care of this horribly embarrassing issue. The thought calms him slightly and he’s able to read until Snafu knocks once, then enters the bedroom.

    “I’m finished in there, if you wanna head in,” he tells Eugene, who nods.

    “Page left a’ this chapter,” he says, astonished that he’s managed to keep his voice from wavering. “But I can go now if you wanna change.”

    “Nothin’ you ain’t seen, Sledgehamma’,” Snafu says with a wink. And of course he’s right, but in the past Eugene has never viewed Snafu as a legitimate option, sexually. It simply never crossed his mind, but now it had and staying in here while Snafu got dressed felt a little too perverted for his taste.

    But he doesn’t leave. He stays right where he is and continues reading. Rather, he tries to read, but his gaze keeps drifting to the towel around Merriell’s slender hips that keeps slipping lower to reveal the dimples at the bottom of his otherwise smooth back.

    “Eugene?”

    And he realises that Snafu had in fact been talking this whole time. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard it, but more that it was like white noise he hadn’t been able to recognise as actual words. Now he’s got Merriell staring at him with a quirked eyebrow, questioning.

    “Yeah?”

    “I’s askin’ if you wanna catch another movie tomorra’ night,” Snafu says, exaggeratedly spacing his words like Eugene isn’t a native English-speaker.

    “Yeah,” Sledge repeats dumbly. “Sure, whatever.”

    Snafu sighs and pushes the drawer closed, his clothes curled into the fist at his side. “This ain’t about how we been sleepin’, is it?”

    “What?”

    “Cuz I know it’s diff’rent, but I ain’t slept so good in a while. Afta’ what happened ’fore Christmas, though, the… What I mean is, if you ain’t good with it, we don’t have ta’ do it again.”

    “No, no, it isn’t…” Eugene huffs in frustration. “Can we talk about this after I shower? Please?” Incredulous, Snafu stares at him again. “I won’t be long, alright; just—get dressed,” Eugene mumbles. He grabs his robe off the hook and hurries down the hall to the bathroom, praying to God that Snafu won’t follow.

    “Sledge?” comes from the other side of the door. He closes his eyes tightly. Fuck. “You angry or somethin’?”

    “No.”

    “I could get some more flowers.”

    “No, Snaf’, all good,” Eugene repeats, ignoring the joke.

    “I’m not tryin’ to be a nag, but I gotta say yo’ makin’ me nervous,” Snafu says. “Just tell me if yo’ feelin’ okay, you can be honest, an’ I’ll leave you to it.”

    “If you really wanna know, I gotta take care a’ myself quick. You know,” Eugene snaps pointedly. “Been a while and I’m antsy. So, if you don’t mind.”

    There’s a pause, and then a quick, “Right,” followed by silence that nearly makes it seem as if Snafu had never been behind the door at all. Eugene shakes his head, switching on the shower, and wipes at his face irritably as the water heats. He’s practically vibrating with the anticipation.

    Not shockingly, he comes fast and has to more than once chomp the inside of his cheek on the occasions he nearly says the name of the boy just down the hall. He tries to picture anyone else, quite literally anyone, but blue irises and the quirk of bow lips stubbornly shove their way back into his mind’s eye each time. The bastard.

    He dries down, feeling a little bit better, and Snafu is reading on the bed in a white tee and pajama bottoms when he re-enters the room. Eugene doesn’t know what to say, so he chooses to say nothing and instead resumes his earlier position, book on his lower stomach and eyes trained resolutely on the words there.

    “Di’n’t mean ta’ intrude,” Snafu tells him, his New Orleans twang cutting into the silence that had fallen between them.

    “It’s alright,” Eugene says. “You di’n’t know.” Snafu goes quiet, and that wouldn’t have been strange for the context except in the quiet is a hesitation that Eugene doesn’t understand. “Snaf’?” he says. “What’s up?”

    “I could tell somethin’ ’as off when I walked in here, afta’ showerin’,” Snafu starts, slow. “I… Yo’ face ’as red and you looked too still ta’ be normal. And when I’s changin’, I could feel you watchin’.”

    “Mer—” Eugene tries immediately, but Snafu just shakes his head.

    “I ain’t mad or nothin’.” Snafu hesitates, something he rarely does, and goes on, “I know we’re friends, and that’s good. You know that. But you lookin’ at me, and seein’ yo’ face in the bathroom like you’s about ta’ crawl outta yo’ skin...” Snafu makes himself look at Eugene and makes himself spit it out in one go: “Took all a’ me not ta’ push in there an’ help you.”

    “You… What?”

    “The other day, when we fought an’ I left? I let you think I was mad when I ran off. I wasn’t. I ran off cuz it was that or…” Snafu chances another look at Eugene, and takes Eugene’s not throwing himself away onto the floor to be a good sign. (It isn’t a good sign as much as it is Gene’s too stunned to really react, but nuance.)

    He shimmies closer to Eugene on the duvet so that there’s less space between them. Though it’s a bit less confident than normal, he catches a hint of Snafu’s tell-tale smirk.

    “So, in the shower,” Snafu says. “Who’d you think about?”

    Despite everything, and despite the fact that Snafu asks this as nonchalantly as one enquiring on the weather, the question shoots straight through to Eugene’s groin. He doesn’t want to answer, but it’s clear that Snafu isn’t just going to drop this, and maybe he doesn’t want him to.

    “Fine.” Eugene watches Merriell’s smirk grow more self-possessed, and from it can tell that Snafu thinks he’s got this under control. A thrill jolts over Eugene’s skin when he says, just to shock Snafu out of that equanimity, “Tasted blood, I bit my tongue so much on your name.” And it works, Merriell actually looks taken by surprise, and Eugene uses that moment to push him onto the mattress and fit their mouths together.

    Snafu sighs into it as Eugene works his lips apart, and he suddenly remembers that he’s wearing nothing but a cotton robe when Snafu pushes his hands inside to clutch at the skin on Eugene’s back. He dips lower involuntarily, their bodies flush, and Snafu says breathlessly, “I thought you jerked off! Yo’ this hard already?”

    “For you,” Eugene replies, sucking the skin between Snafu’s neck and shoulder and uncaring of the definite fact that there will be a mark for his entire immediate family to see. Merriell keens up against Eugene at the words that had sounded like a promise, and with Eugene’s help yanks the tee clean over his head. They kiss, and it’s sweet, despite how tense they both suddenly are, and Snafu grins at the mess he’s made of Eugene’s damp hair.

    “You should keep it like this,” he hums in that soft accent of his. “Suits you.” Eugene rumbles with a laugh that moves through Snafu so pleasantly that he kisses Eugene just to feel it, fingers wound again through his hair.

    “I been thinkin’ about this for days,” Eugene admits.

    Snafu’s eyes sparkle. “So, since we been here?”

    “Mostly since we kissed the other night, but yeah. And, to be fair, you got me flowers. Who’s the loser?”

    In an instant, their position is flipped so that Snafu can look down at Eugene. “You,” he decides. “ _Always_ you.” It’s another unintentional promise, and he nuzzles into Eugene’s neck to kiss behind his right ear, then the left, before returning to his lips. He swipes across Eugene’s lips and they meet again.

    “H-hold on,” Eugene says, carefully sitting up in order for Merriell to situate properly on his lap. He leans forward so that his head rests on Eugene’s shoulder, and arms wrap securely around his waist to hold him there. They’re just hugging now and neither want to move out of it. “If I say I’m fallin’ for you,” Eugene murmurs, “does that make me more of a loser?”

    Snafu pulls back slightly to look at him, his smirk fond. “Nah. Just a softie.”

    “Okay,” Eugene huffs a laugh.

    “So I’m a softie too,” Snafu says with a grin, settling his lips to that same spot behind Eugene’s ear. A flash of wanting returns to Eugene then, and he settles Snafu again against the mattress. His fingers sweeps over Snafu’s bare stomach to his cock, a contrast to the sweetness of the kiss he presses to his mouth, and Snafu leans into the touch despite saying, “Cher, you ain’t gotta…”

    “I want to.” Eugene moves his hand in the slightest and Merriell makes a breathy noise. That’s all Eugene needs. “Fuck, I want to,” he repeats. He strokes slowly until he can find a faster pace, working his mouth on Merriell’s neck all the while, and when Snafu holds him tighter and pulls Eugene up to his lips, Eugene isn’t surprised that the sound and feeling of Snafu moaning his name into his mouth is enough to make him come not a second after.

    Eugene collapses on top of Merriell, both breathing heavily, and after a few moments, Snafu says, “Merry fuckin’ Christmas.”

    Eugene laughs at the incongruence of the sentiment as he whacks a hand against Snafu’s chest. “Should a’ waited on those showers, I guess,” he sighs. “I’ll do another load.” Snafu raises his eyebrows at the phrase. “Of _laundry_ , you ass,” Eugene clarifies, laughing again. “Help me clean this shit up an’ _just maybe_ , if I’m feelin’ charitable, you can join me under the water.”

    Snafu grins. “There ain’t gonna be none left hot if I do.”

    “Then we’d better make the most a’ what we got.”

* * *

    If Mary and Edward notice a change, they don’t comment on it. It isn’t like the boys completely alter their behavior that night at supper, but their glances do hold longer and their smiles are much more openly sweet and secretive than before. To anyone else, it just seems as if the holiday has brought Eugene and Snafu, who had supposedly already been a couple, closer. No big deal, and adorable, if anything.

    Burgie and Leyden earn a punch from the boys back in the city when the latter cackles and forces Burgie to “pay up” for their bet. Assholes. Eugene and Merriell, almost immediately attached again by threaded fingers after the fact, can’t stay too annoyed though.

    A plus side to Eugene’s minoring in Biology? He and Merriell now have two shared courses which mean even more study nights... and ‘study’ nights. In the apartment right beside Burgie and Leyden, they receive plenty of complaints about sound-proofing the place.

    (Those Queen records are always blasted _super_ fucking loud.)

    But they get to spend every night wrapped up in each other, that excessively soft, baby-blue blanket draped over them as the sleep, and it’s hard to believe they ever lived any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so that's it dkjfhldshf i really hope you all enjoyed whatever this story was and im so sorry i suck at endings lol feel free to keep in touch on tumblr or even request prompts. who knows. your support has really been inspiring and every one of you means the world to me. thank you all :)

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyoo. Yes, the title is the Queen song. No, I don't own it or the show. I love Queen and also the fact that Gene and Snaf were in K Company so it sort of made me laugh lol I'll update this every Wednesday most likely, so keep a look out. Thanks, everyone! Let me know if you see any mistakes or just come complain about the egregious lack of Sledgefu content on tumblr where I'm money-and-honey. OH also this is totally only about the characters shown in the show, not about the actual men Joe and Rami portrayed. Thanks :)


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